Code Orange: A Life of LOYALTY
by Yrogerg Ekalb
Summary: The tale of Jeremiah "Orange" Gottwald; as a child,cadet at the Imperial Colchester Institute,royal guard at Aries Villa,in the war against Japan,both anime and their between and after. From life to love to LOYALTY! Reviews appreciated as always!
1. Stage  Turn 01: Gottwald's in Grieving

_**Code Orange: A Life of LOYALTY **_

_**Stage/Turn 1: Gottwald's in Grieving**_

**a.t.b. 2000**

Jeremiah Gottwald's knees finally buckled under the weight of his sorrow.

Throughout the formal procession he had stood steadfast, desperately strangling his emotions, forcing a façade of strength as (His Majesty the First Prince, Jeremiah recalled, his teenaged youth offsetting the prestige of his title) Odysseus eu Britannia delivered their eulogy.

As a warm liquid stung into the corners of his eyes he reprimanded himself inwardly; his parents had been strong and noble warriors, standing amongst the finest soldiers of the glorious Britannian Empire-the mighty Knights of the Round-…and yet he was grieving.

They had bequeathed to him the honourable ideals of loyalty to a worthy master, the willingness to die in duty to one you had convicted yourself to serve, their deaths had been met in just such a heroic manner…and yet he was grieving.

Prior to the ceremony the First Prince himself had offered his humble gratitude to Jeremiah (stricken by the courtesy he was paid by a man of such superior status), assuring him that had it not been for his parents' sacrifice he (Britannia's heir apparent) would no longer be alive.

Now said Prince was (to the best of his abilities, that is, his age apparently not the only contrast to his rank) lauding lofty praise upon his father and mother, their duty to their masters having been very much fulfilled…and yet none of these facts satisfied his grief that they had been lost.

When the funeral came to a close the crowd saluted the coffins as they were entombed in the house of Gottwald's rather modest crypt within the vast military graveyard that sprawled sickeningly through a large section of the Imperial Capital Pendragon (a testament to the many great losses suffered by Britannia in its vast, blood-soaked history).

The vast audience present but a moment previously poured forth from the site near instantaneously as Prince Odysseus concluded their dirge, the spark of anger that so many Britannian's would not remain to pay further respect to such outstanding individuals proved the final blow to Jeremiah's resolve as he fell to his knees before their crypt-front tombstones.

Tears burst relentlessly from his face as the sorrow of their loss was hastily muddled by his own sense of frustration and worthlessness; he could not bring himself to acknowledge their deeds over his sadness and now he was prostrating his inability to properly process their sacrifice before everyone in the vicinity.

A condescending chuckle of a laugh broke out followed by words, "You act as if you are worthless, Jeremiah!", a soft yet alarmingly strong voice spat from over his shoulder, "Your actions are a disgrace to the Gottwald family, do you want to fail our parents after they've died to uphold our name!".

At the sound of her bitter words Jeremiah managed to wrench the reigns of his emotions back into hand, "No, I'd never fail them, a Gottwald never fails!", he croaked out while roughly swiping tears aside and pushing his quivering body back to its feet where his younger sister Lilicia awaited him with her short, frail frame offset by the stern expression adorning her face; cast into shadow by the mourning headwear atop her turquoise locks of hair.

"Correct, our mother and father left their name to us, if you cannot accept it then I will…as Gottwald's, I will not let you be so pathetic", a crack of repressed emotion jutted abruptly into Lilicia's speech and Jeremiah found some solace in knowing that his eloquent, refined, strong-willed sibling felt the same pain as he.

It seemed Lilicia had always been the one to take care of him in their parents' absence (which was often significant due to their deployments to battle) due to her serious, learned nature and her mention of their role in being the sole bearers of the name Gottwald had incited a sense of duty in him which dispersed most of his hysteria.

He was Jeremiah Gottwald and, despite being of but eleven years, he now needed to prove his loyalty to his name.


	2. Stage Turn 02: Those Who Are Lost

_**Code Orange: A Life of LOYALTY **_

_**Stage/Turn 2: Those Who Are Lost, That Which Is Gained **_

**a.t.b. 2000 **

**(after the funeral procession of the Lords of Gottwald)**

Beyond his sister Jeremiah saw that the crowd had all but departed, however, besides the only two servants employed by the house of Gottwald (whose reputation, as a result of being lead by two Knights of the Round, was quite disproportionate to the influence and wealth it possessed as a family of the lesser nobility) there were two others remaining, along with a gaggle of attendants seemingly awaiting them.

One was Prince Odysseus whose sombre facial expression denoted that his conversation with the other man was not a satisfying one, this cape-adorned man was significantly taller than the Prince with his muscular physique and reddish-brown auburn mane cutting a striking figure against the young royal.

"I still can't believe the EU would stage an assassination at our negotiations, I suppose General Menelaus de Bonaparte deserves his fearsome repute", Odysseus solemnly intoned.

The other man lowered his head in a self-confident manner, "Bonaparte is truly a fearsome commander, veteran of combat and strategy, but he bears a sense of honour which I believe would prevent him from ever resorting to such a indirect tactic…it would seem powers higher even than he conspire desperately to remove our forces from their border".

Odysseus had come to look even more disturbed now, "Then are we to have war with the EU! My father claimed our goal in expanding our forces to the EU's border was merely to aid in pacifying the Middle Eastern countries revolting against them. I'm not very fond of fighting, but yet, not doing so would leave those who took my sister's life unpunished…", he voiced in a quiet anguish.

"So it's true that His Majesty the Emperor's newest objective is occupying the Arabian lands in revolt under the guise of assisting the EU…", the auburn-haired fellow responded, "Their lands may be rich in fossil fuels but I fear that is only a temporary solution…for our Empire to thrive with further expansion a bountiful source of finer energy would be required; the elusive sakuradite".

He continued, "As for the death of Her Highness the First Princess-", Odysseus interrupted abashedly, "I beg your pardon but Guinevere insists she be referred to by that title now…".

"She is certainly quick to succeed her sisters station, especially for one so young", the subtly cynical man quipped to an embarrassed Prince, "Very well, **former **Princess Helen's assassination would indeed prove a legitimate cause for declaration of war against the EU, I fail too find reason why His Majesty would not seize on this opportunity…However, subjugating the Middle East remains an imperative of our campaign'.

Throughout the apparently informed man's explanation Prince Odysseus had been nodding his head while attempting to conceal his struggling thought process, the last point seemed to have evaded his reasoning, "Excuse me, sir, but if the EU can be confronted now then why must we still be concerned with the Arab nations? Didn't you say they were our excuse to make ground against the EU? If not for their fuel then what is there of value to us?" he worked through, puzzled.

The hint of a smile crept into the auburn-haired man's face, "Nothing you need concern yourself with sire".

* * *

A undoubtedly genuine grief replaced his smile, "We must believe that your father the Emperor never intended for Helen to lose her life merely as pretext to wage war, the House of Troy mourns her passing in equal measure to your own…", he cast a sudden look in their direction, locking eyes with Jeremiah briefly before turning back to Odysseus, "Please trust we in command of the military to handle these issues in your stead, Your Majesty. Now if I may take my leave there is some business I must yet attend to here".

"Of course, I would never doubt a Knight of your calibre Sir Hector! Please pass my regards to your brother, my life is as much owed to him as to the Lord's Gottwald…I feel that, even among my family, her passing has afflicted him the most…", Odysseus bid this Sir Hector (Jeremiah could not help but feel a familiarity in him now) farewell as he turned and strode directly toward Jeremiah and Lilicia.

Lilicia seized his wrist as if to signal him to be sure he was pulled together in the presence of such an esteemed individual, as always Lilicia was minding the status quo and the Gottwald house's place in it. "The two of you would be Young Master Jeremiah and Young Lady Lilicia Gottwald, I presume?", his question was hastily meet by a "Yes, sir, might we have the pleasure of your introduction", from Lilicia.

The inquirer proceeded to startle them by taking to one knee, bowing his head, and steeling an arm before him in salute, "Hector fo Troy, Knight of Two, and the second man you've met today who owes an incomparable debt to your family". Jeremiah was dumbfounded; he thought this man seemed familiar and now the Knight of Two was bowing to them…what action could have made them worthy of such a humble gesture (the House of Troy, Jeremiah recalled from a lesson of Lilicia's, was the most distinguished of the nobility; second only to the royal family itself in it's history and power).

"Sir Hector, sir, please you don't-", Jeremiah's flustered plea was quickly answered by Hector's standing once more, he was then met with another question from Lilicia, "We are very grateful, sir, but could you please tell us what deserves such courtesy from a man of your rank", her air of propriety and machination undercut by her curiosity.

"Of course, but you needn't be so verbose for a girl of your age!", Sir Hector seemed quite amused, Lilicia on the other would always take offence if her age was brought into discussion…but it seemed the issue of status had her suffer it silently on this occasion.

He continued, "Your parents, the Knight of Eleven and Knight of Thirteen, had been fighting to occupy some territory in Europe yet to be claimed by the EU and their success brought our Empire into the presence of the EU's border. Our stratagem involved offering military support to the EU, who had been having difficulty with uprisings against them in their Middle Eastern states, in order to solidify a foothold for a prolonged series of conflicts intended to capture certain property…".

The Knight of Two gathered himself in preparation for what came next, "A negotiation was arranged with the EU, they leave us be and we assist them, the limited Britannian personnel permitted to attend included First Princess Helen ex Britannia and her Royal Knight along with Prince Odysseus. It was there that the EU betrayed us and assassinated Her Highness before launching an ambush, however, your parents had readied a concealable force as a contingency and due to their sacrifice the Prince was able to escape…along with that Royal Knight I mentioned, my brother Paris".

Neither Jeremiah nor Lilicia made any move in response to this, the disposition of Sir Hector indicated that he had more still to say, "Paris and I are the only two members of the House of Troy remaining, in that manner our two households are very much alike, your parents saved the life of my only family and I wish to do whatever is in my power to serve that debt".

* * *

With a snap of his fingers Sir Hector was joined by a man who appeared to be his attendant, receiving a document and quill which he held out to them; "It was the wish of your parents that if they perished before you two reached the age at which you could inherit the Gottwald estate that you be placed into the care of a noble family, I have arranged to take you in myself if you will allow it".

Lilicia took the quill from his hand, "We shall remain Gottwald's then?", "Of course, it was your parents intent that you be bestowed all the opportunities offered by your nobility and succeed them as Lord's of their house when you come of age", Hector assured her.

"Then I can think of no better guardian to entrust my brother and I with such capability as you Sir Hector" Lilicia flattered as she signed her name to the paper, passing the quill to Jeremiah afterward.

"Well, Young Master Jeremiah, can I offer you the potential your parents had hoped you would receive? If there is anything I can assist you in achieving then please do not hesitate to seize it", Hector's heartfelt admission had stirred the inkling of ambition in Jeremiah's heart into a raging sea.

He had, in that epiphany of a moment, convicted himself to honouring their memories and upholding the reputation of the Gottwald family by rising to the very peak of achievement that a loyal servant of Britannia could achieve, "For my mother, Knight of Eleven, and my father, Knight of Thirteen, and for the entire House of Gottwald…".

He signed his name alongside Lilicia's, "Jeremiah Gottwald will become Knight of One!".


	3. Stage Turn 03: The House of Troy

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 03: The House of Troy **_

**a.t.b. 2000 (after the funeral, in transit to the residence of Knight of Two, Sir Hector fo Troy, Duke of Britannia) **

His ride in Sir Hector's stately carriage was, despite the exceeding comfort of its interior, charged with an air of tension as Jeremiah struggled to retain a semblance of composure (a dilemma which Lilicia, of course, was unfettered by) in the presence of the luminary Duke.

He breathed a great sigh of relief (as quiet as he could that is, lest his sister overhear) when they arrived at the foot of a pristine marble staircase, so wide and high across that it made the hill it lay upon resemble a snowy mountain face, which spanned up to what could only be described as a palace; an obelisk structured around an array of majestic pillars.

Their new guardian waved them on and Jeremiah stumbled out of the coach in awe of what lay before him with Lilicia following suit; her captivated eyes betraying her refined nature, their stupor was then noticed by Sir Hector, "Well, this is my humble abode…I assure you both it's a result of my ancestors aesthetics from times long since past, not mine!", he chortled.

The Duke began the ascent toward his manner, soon turning back and signaling his wards to follow, "Come along then, what's mine is yours, from now on you're as much members of the House of Troy as I", the children shot each other a look of assurance and nodded to him just as they began hurrying excitedly toward this palace…toward _their _palace.

As the grinning Sir Hector joined the two at the stair-top he knocked upon the ivory door for it to be opened merely seconds later by an elderly suited gentlemen donning a monocle who knelt (which seemed an arduous task at his age) and paid his master a gracious welcome, one which the Knight of Two promptly reciprocated to the two children with one hand clasped on a shoulder of each, "Welcome home!".

They foyer they'd entered towered upward, a web of staircases hung above them with its ceiling seeming so distant that Jeremiah believed the building must have scraped the sky itself, meanwhile Lilicia was scurrying to and from every inch of the chamber; examining the various portraits, furniture and décor which imbued it with an element of the long, grandiose history its House must have possessed.

The young Gottwald heard his guardian give a heavy sigh as he removed the weighty cape draping over his shoulders, a young woman fashioned in the traditional black and white Britannian maid's dress glided over to relieve him off the exhausting cloth earning a relaxingly exhaled, "My thanks, madam, I detest those pieces of ceremonial nonsense", from him.

This moment sparked him into contemplation; he had always been fond of maids as the House of Gottwald's had been like a mother to him and his sister when theirs was occupied in her duty as Knight of Eleven, he was disheartened that their two former servants would no longer be with them (Sir Hector stated that he had no need for more himself) but felt better due to the Knight of Two generously compensating them regardless.

He was distracted from his reminiscence by the butler attempting to discreetly whisper to the Duke, the result proving quite audible to Jeremiah due to the harsh gravel-like quality in the elder man's voice, "Master Hector, I'm afraid that Master Paris is still in a dreadful state, I've attempted to be of service but I fear this matter is one only you can aid in".

"I understand, much appreciated", Sir Hector gravely nodded, his disposition suddenly became indomitable once more, "Well then, Ma'am could you escort young Lilicia here to her room and help her to settle in, luckily we were already prepared for a female guest", he told the maid.

"I'm very grateful my Lord", his sister's curtsey to her guardian was not repeated when she faced the maid; her social inferior, "Lead on then!", the Gottwald heiress eyed her brother with a look he knew to mean there would be dire consequences for him if he acted out of turn during her absence, then followed the woman, quickly vanishing up the labyrinthine staircases.

The Duke addressed the older man beside him, "Now mister, if I could impose on you to take our young man here up to his-", Jeremiah hoped that his sister was out of earshot by now as he cut in on the Knight "Sir Hector, I…well, um…I'd like to meet Sir Paris, if you don't mind…I remember you saying he was there when my parents were…", he swallowed down the knot of sadness which had become tightly lodged in his throat.

They had only been buried this very morning, it was still far too soon for him to think of them without his emotions coming apart at the seams…he was suddenly racked with guilt; he had been so caught up in his adoption by Sir Hector that he had been paying no thought to his parents…he felt hot tears seeping in again.

"Now Young Master, if you'll come with me", the butler moved to whisk the boy off as per his master's instruction but fo Troy seized the Gottwald by his shoulders, "Believe me, I understand", their eyes met and the watery glint in the elder mans' belayed the strength of his form and character.

"There is a powerful connection between the two of you; Paris was present when your mother and father gave their lives to save those of their fellow Britannian's. Amazing isn't it? That our pain can be eased simply by knowing exactly what happened to those we have lost…that's what you seek in him I presume?", his explanation was one of both sympathy and empathy, one that only someone who had lost loved ones themselves could deliver, Jeremiah nodded shakily…he just wanted to know what Paris knew.

"And as for Paris, he is anguished that he cannot express his immense gratitude to the people who saved his life, but to you; the son of those people, he could express it…", Sir Hector stood and bowed to him again, a single tear sliding down his cheek, "…to you he could ease his pain".

* * *

After a thoroughly disorientating stroll up the maze of stairs Jeremiah came to a halt behind Sir Hector, the latter knocked upon the heavy wooden door, "Paris it's me, I'm coming in", he uttered calmly.

His guardian tilted his head toward the door, now opening with a heavy groan of its weight, and so the boy delicately stepped in after him into a relatively small, square cellar whose walls were naught but bare, unsightly brick; darkness seemed to burst forth from the most distant corner of the cellar, shunning light from touching any inch of it beyond the doorway.

The young Gottwald took to waiting by the door, the resounding slam as it shut causing Jeremiah to give a frightened jump, after the Duke briefly raised an open hand behind him as he moved into the deeper corner, "I know your sorrow Paris; Helen's loss was grievous to us all", he softly intoned.

A racking sob broke out from the far reaches of the shadows, "She was the most beautiful woman…so much wiser than any other…a ruler who would devote her power to true righteousness for all her people…she'd proposed to me Hector, I was too cowardly to do it myself…we were to marry on our return but-", the high and pitiable voice then completely fell into weeping.

By leaning forward and squinting Jeremiah was able to make out a larger figure leaning over a smaller one that appeared to be sitting upright on some bed-like object, Sir Hector's voice emanated from the former visage, "Listen to me brother, Helen is gone now…has been for some time, you must attempt to compose yourself, you cannot merely continue to seal yourself away and wallow in sadness…she would not have wanted that for you".

"Yes, but do you know what she would have wanted brother!", the smaller (Paris') voice had erupted into a flare of violent anger and the other gave no response, "Well I do! Revenge! Revenge against the traitorous warmongers who've defiled our House, who robbed Helen of her life and who made this entire world into the rotten place where these atrocities can occur, together we can take revenge against-", a flurry of noise interrupted the tirade.

The eruption of movement in the stagnant dark allowed Jeremiah to roughly make out what was happening; the seated shadow was abruptly hoisted to its feet by the standing one who proceeded to launch an arm across the face of the figure which was Sir Paris, then the form of Sir Hector thrust the back of his brother up against the cellar wall by what seemed the scruff of his neck.

"They have earned our vengeance brother", the kind strength in the elder brother's voice became muddled by a seething anger, "But we will _not _besmirch Helen's name by using her as an excuse for the very violence she sought to dispense with…we take revenge but we take it for _our_ sake, now pull yourself together Paris; our visitors are here", he softened again.

The clambering of footsteps heralded the appearance of both Troy's, the three stood in the glow of faint light from the door's other side the ward could see a slightly swollen redness on Paris' right cheek which was mostly obscured by the thin, wavy blonde curls of hair which fell above his waist, "Paris meet Jeremiah Gottwald, Jeremiah this is my brother; Paris fo Troy", Sir Hector's characteristic genteel strength now having fully returned.

He could almost feel a wave of shock ripple through Sir Paris, "Hector is he? Sir and Lady Gottwald, you're their son?", he gave a nod in answer of the young man's bewildered question causing him to drop to his knees and grip one of Jeremiah's shoulders with eyes brimming with somber gratitude.

"I know people are not their parents, I will never be worthy of mine, but I cannot help but give my thanks to you; you see Princess Helen and I were to be wed…then she was taken from me…your mother and father came to me in the darkest moment of my life and shielded me from certain death, there they gave me a final order; escape with Odysseus, the Prince", Paris spoke.

The young Gottwald's emotions were checked by an insatiable curiosity, "So were my sister and I adopted here because of that", Sir Paris gave a weak smile, "They gave a last request afterward; that I make sure their children found a new home", now Sir Hector gripped a shoulder, that of his younger brother, "And he thought; 'what better way to do that than adopt them into his own House', it fit you parents will so here you both are".

"Now", the Duke's light-hearted speech reflected the opening of the nearby door and the warm rays which poured in through it, "There's a pair of retainers and a young lady awaiting us upstairs so we'd best not keep them waiting", Hector filed out of the cellar humming a fulfilling tune.

Sir Paris circled around in front of Jeremiah and knelt down to his level, "One last thing, my new brother", and as he blinked his eyes the boy glimpsed a glint of light in them, a light fitting his peaceful expression.

* * *

The trio's march up the ensemble of staircases had exhausted Jeremiah (this triggered equal parts embarrassment and annoyance in him; a great loyal subject couldn't afford to be so physically incompetent…a great leader, however, was another matter entirely he thought) by the time they finally reached the floor upon which Lilicia and the two retainers awaited them.

"Sir Hector, how pleasant to see you again", his sister curtsied, "Sir Paris, it's truly a pleasure to meet you, I am Lilicia Gottwald; I'm honored to be in your presence", his sister curtsied again and then faced him sternly, "I hope my brother wasn't much trouble, he can be so-", apparently realizing the casualness that had infiltrated her speech she covered her mouth by hand.

The Duke gave a throaty chuckle and as Lilicia's brother began to follow she bore into him with her eyes so forcefully that it shoved his laughter back down into his chest, Sir Paris's high voice spoke up, "Young Lady even at only eight years I see your mother's beauty shining in you".

She blushed in what Jeremiah recognized as one of her rare bursts of unguarded, endearing emotion, "W-Why thank you, Sir. I must thank you both so much; my room is beautiful; fit for a princess!".

A pained grunt slipped from the wincing Paris, Hector stepped closer as if in support of his brother who raised a hand in decline of this, "That room was made ready some time ago; it was to belong to First Princess Helen when she stayed here…but better you make use of it then it go to waste", Jeremiah considered him brave owing to his emotional wreck on this subject earlier.

Lilicia was, despite her best effort, caught in an uncomfortable silence but was liberated from it by Sir Hector, "So Lilicia, have you ever heard of the Warrick Palace Society?", he mused intriguingly.

Her awkward stiffness erupted into an ecstatic excitement (it was these moments when Jeremiah felt the most related to his sister), "You mean the Warrick Palace Society of Britannian Noblewomen! I most certainly do, my Lord! An organization founded by our Empire's first Empress; Eve ah Britannia, for the education and etiquette of girls in the nobility. Stationed at Warrick Palace in St. Darwin Street it-", she stopped sourly as he finally became the one giving a displeased look at her overbearing lecture.

Their guardians had been looking on; Paris in amazement at the girl's knowledge and Hector in amusement, "Indeed Lilicia, indeed", the Knight of Two smiled, "The Society's current chairwoman, Gabriella la Britannia, was a good friend of our late mother's and always insists that we send our daughters to her if we have any…if you'd like you could-".

His sister returned to her euphoria, "Enter into the Society! My Lord that would be such a tremendous honor! I had always dreamed I'd be able to one day!", from what he could recall of Lilicia's teachings the Warrick Palace Society accepted girls each year, however, positions were limited and preference was given in accordance with the height of one's rank.

Being born a lesser noble the Gottwald girls' chances of being accepted into the Society were slim, though the patronage of the illustrious House of Troy would undoubtedly counteract that, "Mister could you contact Warrick Palace and let them know to expect a guest, if you could escort the young lady Madam", Sir Hector's address of his servants confirmed these thoughts.

The two bowed and dispersed with a joyous Lilicia embarking with the maid, as she passed Jeremiah his sister took his hand, "Oh dear brother, is this not a blessed turn of events" she mewled…leaving her brother both happy for her and scared to see his sister being so very…agreeable.

"What about you Young Master? What do you see in your future?", Sir Paris asked and the boy voiced his resolve in response, "I want to be the Knight of One! To honor my mother and father and punish the ones who took them from me; those EU bastards!", his rush of anger quelling the sadness which welled up in thought of his parents.

"A fine answer! And I think we can put you on the best-", the younger Troy began enthusiastically before his elder brother interrupted with a serious drone, "Vengeance is the motive of the bitter man Jeremiah, the man who lives for grievances past over love present and rejects a bright, unified future for a selfish one of darkness…you have a sister, _family_, to live for and such a path cannot be in her best interest, can it?".

He agreed, feeling like a fool when met with the wisdom of the Duke, and briefly contemplated Lilicia being left without any family which repulsed him, "Live in the here and now, do what you do for the sake of a better future for you and those you care for…and leave the evils of the past to those who bear their onus so that our world might move forward into the light; the forgotten martyrs of a new age", Hector desolately imparted.

A seemingly downtrodden Sir Paris resumed, "Hector is right…but I'll be damned if you fail to achieve your goal!", he knelt before the Duke, "Brother I implore you; sponsor him in registration to Colchester, we both know it's his best chance to be selected for the Rounds, I'd do it myself

but…a Royal Knight without a royal has little clout", he gulped.

Sir Hector sighed in a lighthearted manner, "What to do with you two? Paris; swear to me you'll pull yourself together and accept the seat you've long been offered among the Rounds", Sir Paris hesitated before looking to Jeremiah and agreeing, "Then let's raise ourselves a Knight of One!".


	4. Stage Turn 04: A Grand Inheritance

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 04: A Grand Inheritance**_

**a.t.b. 2006 **

The vast military graveyard of the Imperial Capital stretched out before Jeremiah's eyes in an uncomfortably familiar fashion, undoubtedly a result of his recurring visits there over the past six years.

And, just as he had done these half a dozen years previous, he bowed before two gravestones erected before a crypt, however, until but a year ago these two monuments had not existed… the great, elaborate crypt which burst stalwartly behind them held no fallen Gottwald's either.

Jeremiah felt somewhat disturbed that he would now have twofold the reason to visit a field so mired in death but he quickly dismissed the notion and focused upon paying his respects to the diminutive obelisks of loss upon which read;

"Duke of Britannia, Sir Hector fo Troy, Knight of Two"

"Lord (of the House of Troy) Sir Paris fo Troy, Knight of Eight"

It stunned Jeremiah to think that a year had practically passed since Sir Hector (Lilicia had reminded him constantly his proper form of address was at least 'Sir **Troy**'…Sir Hector, on the other hand, had never seemed fond of formalities; odd as a man of his station was rife with them) had left them to command Britannian forces in the incessant EU War.

From what he could recall of Sir Hector's briefing to them agents of the Britannian Office of Secret Intelligence (or OSI as Sir Hector had called them, meriting and embarrassed question of its meaning from Jeremiah) had information that some malady had removed General de Bonaparte from the EU's frontline, prompting a sudden offensive from Sir Hector's forces in order to take the initiative.

Though the ensuing battle had been a success in putting the EU on the defensive and advancing their forces over the EU's border it had come at a grave cost; Sir Hector's state-of-the-art Glasgow Knightmare Frame was annihilated to the point that no human pilot could have survived and Sir Paris, who had became a Knight of the Round during the years in which Lilicia and himself had stayed at the Troy estate, had been missing ever since he fought in the battle; declared MIA (this abbreviation Jeremiah had been familiar with, it had once applied to his parents until their bodies were found following the EU's-Damn!).

The EU had taken his parents from him and now they robbed him of the man who had guided him through his adolescence and the fervour of aspirations which had accompanied it, who had saved him and his sister from mediocrity and poverty with his sponsorship until such time (shortly after his death it turned out) Jeremiah turned seventeen and inherited the Gottwald estate, who had been as a father to him.

"The EU has proved their disgraceful inferiority by murdering such great Britannians, but hear me now, though I cannot avenge you yet…I will soon be among the finest Knights of our land…then…", Jeremiah fought to push through the words as hot tears pulled away from his eyes…'I'm still weak', he thought.

* * *

"Come now Jeremiah, there is never a need for tears…they accomplish nothing…nor for such meagre ambitions any longer, after all you are Marquess Gottwald now", came a voice (exuding refinement, cynicism and verbosity) from behind him…a rush of déjà vu accompanied his startling.

Jeremiah wiped the tears from his face in a single, efficient motion (he had more practice in this act than he liked to believe, especially to hide them from his sister when she was in the vicinity) and turned to face…he was startled for the second time in mere moments, earlier this very morning he had gazed into (this same, it seemed) face mournfully on a tomb-side photograph.

Lilicia, her features forming into an uncanny resemblance of their late mother as she came of age, stood cross-armed with her long hair cascading down to her knees in manners of tying that transcended Jeremiah's understanding on the subject, its shade reminding him of the waterfalls of their homeland's southern reaches.

"Lilicia, I didn't know you were-", as soon as his sister interjected he realised the 'mistake' he had made, "That would be Marchioness Gottwald now, if you please brother, Sir Tr-that is, Duke Troy-bequeathed his estate to both of us equally, hence my title is no less than your own", she lectured.

He knew that to be true (although Lilicia would always be Lilicia to him); when Sir Hector passed away without an heir apparent both of them, his wards at the time, were his only viable successors…owing to Sir Paris' continued absence…and were to inherit all shares in equality.

"As a matter of fact, we should be Duke and Duchess, you and I, if it were not for the 'infinite wisdom' of the House of Lords", Jeremiah gave a quiet sigh in lieu of the tirade he knew would follow, "I understand the Duchy of Britannia is essentially an honorific rank-if not it would make you as good as a monarch-inherited by the head of the House of Troy since the family's inception. It grants no actual estate, rather the esteem of being peer to those who held it previously; to our first Emperor Ricardo von Britannia, who held the title before the empire was founded, than the line of the original Knight of One-Sir Richard Hector-who the Emperor bequeathed it to after establishing our motherland".

Lilicia loved her history and any opportunity to divulge it was seized without a second thought, even if it were toward someone (like Jeremiah himself) who she had already instructed on it, "Yes, Lili-", her eyes snapped onto him and he hastily revised his sentence, "-Marchioness Gottwald, and Sir Hector's (by which he meant the Knight of One, had it been their guardian he would have said Sir **Troy** in his sister's presence) line became the House of Troy", he finished the familiar lesson in her stead.

"Correct, you learn well Marquess", Lilicia chuckled and Jeremiah joined her…until her qualms took to her swiftly again, "Yet why do we, Duke Troy's heirs, not inherit this Duchy ourselves! The House of Lords asserts that since we are not of blood-relation we can not succeed the title, however, their Grand Duke was all too pleased to grant us our current ranks, allow us to inherit the remainder of Duke Troy's estate and even reserve our house a Seat among their little clique to wrangle the post away from us, then the Emperor would likely see it to his claws", Lilicia fumed.

Jeremiah had no desire to sully his fellow Britannian's, particularly those of superior class, but Sir Hector himself had told them that after his father-Priam fo Troy-had died while being Grand Duke (chair of the aristocratic House of Lords-who administered half the Britannian government) the other Duchy-lords had scrambled to firmly establish themselves in this position…the honour of Duke of Britannia would likely serve to entrench one in this power for a lifetime.

* * *

"Regardless…", Lilicia transgressed after regaining her composure from the tense moment, "If we intend to keep the rank we do have I must be off for a meeting of our **favourite** House, at fourteen I shall be the youngest noble ever to take a Seat-quite a distinguishing occasion if I do say so myself-though I'm certain those old bores would have had you sit among them instead had you not decided to gallivant off to a school".

Even before they had been imparted such prestigious nobility from Sir Hector's passing, Lilicia had been uncomfortable with his decision to undertake training to become a Knight, "Sister this is no mere school, it's the Imperial Colchester Institute! The finest military academy in Britannia; where our parents themselves were knighted, where many a Knight of Round received the training that exemplified them so that they may-", Jeremiah caught himself before he could finish…as his ambitions grew so to, it seemed, did his penchant for fanatical oratory.

"Very well then; I will concede that, even with Sir Troy's aid, you have toiled to be accepted…I suppose that speaks of its quality, yet with your current station it would have been much simpler applying so you'd best respect my own toil in keeping it for you", as one who could not even claim his lesser nobility due to his youth Jeremiah would have faced a truly daunting task in passing the extensive qualification program for the Institute which ran for years before one actually enrolled…had it not been for his guardian being a man of Sir Hector's stature.

"Well we both have important functions to attend today, the least you could do out of respect for my trials and tribulations is to place these flowers on their graves in my stead, Jeremiah", Lilicia spoke in a softer, more vulnerable tone than usual and Jeremiah, sensing the sorrow she suppressed, consented without even mentioning the hypocrisy of her not using his 'proper' title.

He took the two bouquets his sister practically shoved into his chest and laid them on one of the graves before bidding her farewell and moving toward the coach bound to take him to the Colchester Institute's opening ceremony later that morning.

"There were two bouquets! One meant for each grave, not both for Duke Troy's!", Lilicia exclaimed in disbelief that he would seemingly overlook such an obvious principle.

Jeremiah faced his sister from half-way into the coach, noticing her sitting disgruntled inside a carriage of her own, "I realised, sister, but Sir Hector fo Troy was a warrior who could match any other in this world of ours…if he perished in that battle, as was the case with our mother and father, it would only have been once he was certain that another would be protected…it may sound foolish but I am certain Sir Paris is alive".

He clambered into the carriage and gave the driver word he was ready to depart, "Ever hopeless, brother, but ever loyal" Lilicia mused, and as both their transports bustled off to their destinations he swore he caught a glimpse of a genuine smile from his sisters lips.


	5. Stage Turn 05: Faces of the Future

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 05: Face(s of) the Future**_

**a.t.b. 2006 (a short time before the three-yearly opening ceremony of the Imperial Colchester Institute)**

Jeremiah's carriage had arrived late; the driver assumed he must be headed for an academy on Pendragon's Colchester Street, yet, the Imperial Colchester Institute lay above this district-at the foot of the tier occupied by St. Darwin Street (which housed the residences of the royal family).

This frustrated him significantly (he would still make the opening ceremony with time to spare but he had hoped to partake in the pre-ceremony dining beforehand, he minded not that he had missed such unnecessary festivities…not meeting the luminaries who may have also attended was what angered him…), however, his misgivings quickly scattered when he at last laid eyes upon the Institute.

It was more a fortress than a school; consisting of an array of seemingly impenetrable, conical towers standing mightily into the sky, despite these the complex possessed a sleek, white surface which projected elegance and beauty from every wall of its magnificent (distinctly Britannian, thought Jeremiah) architecture.

The young Marquess barely noticed as his driver gave a nervous plea for forgiveness to his patron, earning a practically subconscious response of acceptance from Jeremiah as he found himself being irresistibly drawn to stride off toward the hall where the ceremony was to be held.

He marched awestruck into the pristine antiquity of the main foyer where a secretary behind a vast oaken desk hastily directed him further in to reach his destination, his advance eventually brought him to a colossal set of double-doors, swiftly opened by a pair of men easily identified as Knights by the garb they were clad in, to whom he gave an earnest bow before stepping into the grandiose theatre before him.

The hall abounded with Colchester cadets and staff; Jeremiah stood dead-center at the rear of the chamber which was directly opposite a raised stage-platform at which stood a elaborate podium with a row of throne-like seating behind it, he was flanked by a immaculately organized crowd of cadets (he could tell as they wore the same uniform he currently did) standing in rows of formation on both sides.

A disgruntled-looking Knight strode out suddenly from between a row of cadets before him on his right and proceeded to abruptly wrench him from his bedazzled euphoria, "You're holding up the proceedings, boy, move off to your assigned post at once!", he shouted.

The Marquess found himself bowing again, in apology this time, as his eyes began darting around frantically in search of a place to stand amongst the tightly formatted cadets, he was relieved that the agitated Knight had slipped away in inspection of a row on the left as he could find no such openings.

Jeremiah realized that at several points down the fine, rouge-carpeted path that swept down the gap between the chorus of cadets stood those whose uniforms indicated them as Institute staff, he set on toward the nearest official in hopes of them knowing where he should be placed.

* * *

As he drew towards the staff-member, a woman with an almost green tinge to her platinum hair; whose short cut at the back and leanly muscular body clashed with the image given by her delicate facial features and how strands of the hair streamed before each ear with one in a careful braid, he saw her to be engaged in conversation with a cadet partially obscured by her waist-length golden-blonde locks.

The cadet turned in what was almost a bounce of excitement, he saw her eyes lit-up with an ecstatic joy not too dissimilar from his own moments ago, "Isn't it an honor to have such a esteemed noblewoman in this session's class, this truly is the finest academy in Britannia!", she seemed to become distracted by the other woman's lack of enthusiasm, "You're an instructor-trainee of course, Lady Nonette, but are you not excited as well?", she asked in search of affirmation.

"Hey, you don't have to call me 'Lady', y'know", this 'Nonette' spoke casually, "Anyway I suppose I'll find out before long since one of the big-wigs decided I'd be giving her, ahem, "exclusive tutoring" for the next three years…but it could turn out to be a blast!", this so freely-worded reply appeared to catch her polite, composed companion off-guard.

Jeremiah stepped in at this moment, "Excuse me madam, but I'm afraid I can't find a place among the other cadets", his interjection earned a puzzled response from Nonette, "I'm pretty sure everyone's here that was on my list", she procured a document from within the cape which hung over her right arm as she asked, "So what's your name now, cute-y?".

Through his embarrassment he found himself receiving an internal scolding from his sister and thus responded with formality, "Marquess Jeremiah Gottwald, ma'am", the woman's eyes widened and the blonde-haired cadet gasped, "Marquess!", before paying him a deep curtsey, "I am Countess Monica Kruszewski, daughter of Margrave Kruszewski of Area 10, it's an honor my Lord".

In abiding by the etiquette instilled in him by his sister since their childhood he (with his best attempt at acting suave, despite the annoying sense of embarrassment he felt from his lack of association with any women other than his sister throughout his study/inheritance-dominated adolescence) he gently took the Countess' gloved hand and briefly pressed his lips against it.

As he let go of her and brought his head level again he noticed Kruszewsky was now quite abashed, her face askew with a red balm, prompting a similar reaction in him as he struggled to stammer out an apology, thankfully Lady Nonette spared him the trouble, "Seats are reserved for nobles up in front of the stage, I'm stuck back here on duty so can you show him up there Monica? That's where you're headed anyway, right?".

Monica quickly assented, waving her hand in an awkward directing gesture before beginning to shuffle up the hallway, Nonette then placed a hand on his shoulder as she leaned over to his ear with a sly grin across her mouth, "She's all yours, you little charmer", her chuckling sent him beat red.

* * *

The hall was indeed long but the awkwardness permeating between him and Countess Kruszewski made their stroll up it feel even longer (and more painful), "L-Lady Nonette is a very gifted Knight…", Monica's shy squeak broke their stagnant silence, "She's only of common birth, and she's rather informal, but she was the Knight of Colchester in the Institute's last session (a three-year term of the Institute in which a class of cadets would graduate from thereafter)…it's such a shame she wasn't noble-born".

A surprised gasp burst from Jeremiah's lips, "Truly? She's amazing!", he himself aspired (upon his graduation from the Institute and the knighthood which accompanied it) to be dubbed a Knight of Colchester; a title granted to the most accomplished cadet of each session and one he had never known a Knight of Honour (a non-noble graduate) to bear this accolade.

"Indeed, it came as quite a shock to me as well Marquess Gottwald", Lord Monica's formality reminded him of Lilicia (a significantly more humble and gentle Lilicia, albeit) and he, still unused to the prestige of his new title and having inherited Sir Hector's dislike for being addressed by his rank, asked; "Lord Monica, I'm a cadet same as you…please call me Jeremiah".

"Ah, I-if you wish Marquess…", she resisted her urge to use his surname, "…Jeremiah", he felt that the pressure to act formal that was usually imposed on him (by Lilicia) was now being exerted upon Monica (by him, albeit as an inadvertent result of his station) and sympathized with her significantly, "My sister would berate me to no end if she could hear me suggesting this now so let's keep this between us shall we?", he mused.

The Countess stopped to face him with a sweet smile and an amused laugh before waving an arm to her left, "Here are the seats Marquess Jeremiah, it's been a pleasure speaking with you, it's such a relief that you found Lady Nonette and I before you stood with the…rest of the cadets".

Jeremiah realized that an ensemble of fine, stately chairs on either side of him lead right up to only a few feet from the stage itself and he noticed their segregation from the standing space of the commoner cadets at the rear of the hall, from where he had entered.

A survey of his surrounds had him catch sight of a dark-skinned woman in caped dress launch up from a throne-like seat at the stage's back, she was headed toward the podium, the Marquess recognized her with a start and grabbed Kruszewski by the hand (with a sincerely blurted apology) and leapt with her into the nearest pair of available seats.

"M-My Lord, I-I-I can't be seated beside a Marquess, I'm not wor-", her shocked ramble was swiftly silenced as a severe voice cut through the room, "Cadets of the Imperial Colchester Institute, noble and common alike, welcome to this new session; I am Viscountess Dorothea Ernst, Knight of Seven and a Senior Instructor of this academy".

Lady Ernst! It truly was her! So she was not only a Knight of Round but a Viscountess as well (he had always referred to her as Lady, the title of a female Knight)! It was knowing that such luminary individuals would be instructing him that made Jeremiah feel attending Colchester placed becoming Knight of One within his grasp.

"For this session we have the honor of Her Highness, Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia in attendance as a cadet; all rise in salute of Princess Cornelia!", Dorothea boomed.

The Marquess was shocked! He knew of Colchester's fame and outstanding alumni but he never dreamed that he would attend it alongside a member of the royal family! It seemed that his fellow cadets shared his sentiments; to his left Monica beamed in sheer admiration and on his right a young man with his dark hair slipped into a ponytail had his eyes bulging in surprise.

As Princess Cornelia stood in recognition and returned to her on-stage seat the cadet crowd moved to follow but were met with an intervention by Dorothea, "Remain standing! Our academies Chief Instructor; Knight of Six, Her Highness the 98th Empress of Britannia, Lady Marianne vi Britannia shall lead us in the imperial anthem; salute Her Majesty!".

Jeremiah snapped into an instantaneous salute as Lady (addressing her as Viscountess didn't make the faintest touch on his thoughts, not in this blissful moment) Dorothea stood aside to allow the woman who he had been so intent on seeing at the dinner he missed to take to the podium.

Jeremiah's sense of euphoria surged back into him stronger than it had ever been in all his seventeen years; the one who had been his idol ever since his parents taught him about the Knights of Round, who had been the pilot of the first full-fledged Knightmare Frame (the third-generation Ganymede) and who had inspired an entire new generation, including himself, of Britannian Knights now stood before him.

He realized that he had been singing 'All Hail Britannia' practically subconsciously this entire time, the mere minute or so which had passed in reality felt like a blissful eternity to him but if there was anything he was completely aware of it was that these next three years would be among the most glorious of his life.

As he gazed upon the Knight of Six…no, the 98th Empress…no, his _idol_ he could practically feel success and fulfillment coursing through his body, the anthem was drawing to its close and Jeremiah (finally feeling conscious of his reality once more) could think of no better words to summarize his outlook on this scenario then the final line of the anthem he heartily sung, "All Hail Britannia!".


	6. Stage Turn 06: The Princess and Playboy

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 05: The Princess and the Playboy **_

**a.t.b. 2006 (the aftermath of the Institute's new session's opening ceremony) **

As the opening ceremony concluded the Institute staff scattered about the hall in an endeavor to divide the session's cadets into class groups, Jeremiah soon realized that they were working from the front of the room backward; ensuring that they would be grouped in accordance with their noble ranking.

His placing, alongside Monica, was in the first of these groups; quickly ushered to another grandiose door at the side of the chamber by staff who proceeded to distribute lavishly decorated timetable forms amongst them which read in elegant font: 'Session Class A'.

Upon examining his timetable the Marquess remarked aloud that they had an hour's wait until their first class commenced, Countess Kruszewski suggested that they spend this time in the Chamber of Sir Colchester which he (knowing little of Colchester's interior) assented to.

Jeremiah proceeded to ask what this 'Chamber' was, "You mean you don't know my Lord?", Monica said incredulously, "During the Age of Revolution, in which Emperor Ricardo von Britannia came to reside in our current homeland, Sir Colchester was the commander of the peasant army who traveled alongside him out of loyalty for the old monarchy.", he had indeed received this lesson from Lilicia before…several times before…but he admired Sir Colchester's selfless benevolence so he continued listening.

"Once our Empire was established, the Emperor appointed Sir Colchester as the first Knight of Two and offered him a title of grand nobility…", at this point Lord Monica's face became a confused grimace, "…for some reason though he refused this distinction…regardless this Institute, along with the finest chamber within it, were named in his honor", she finished.

They reached a set of doors which opened into a lounge adorned with crimson carpeting, chairs, sofa's, tables and walls and contained every manner of indoor luxury Jeremiah could fathom; many merry staff members sat at a bar in the corner, an intoxicating scent wafted from the gourmet kitchen and a gaggle of cadets who had entered just ahead of them had occupied themselves with a game at one of the snooker tables.

As the two of them took a seat upon a serenely soft sofa the Marquess found himself wishing that he could have had the opportunity to visit the Institute beforehand; his enrollment had only been confirmed within the last year and between processing his inheritance of the House of Gottwald's estate and the issues of Sir Hector's death he simply was in no condition to do it.

A girlish chuckle broke from behind their sofa as Jeremiah spoke, "Session Class A…", he re-examined his timetable, "…instructed by Nonette Enneagram (Instructor, Junior Grade), Dorothea Ernst (Instructor, Senior Grade) and Marianne vi Britannia (Chief Instructor), oh what blessed fortune!".

The bemused reaction of his Countess friend was accompanied by the chuckling (of what seemed like two girls now) from behind them, "Marquess Jeremiah you and I are Class A cadets; the Institute insures that its finest instruction is available to us above all others, but your look of surprise is so pleasant", she smiled sincerely.

Before he could respond a male voice joined the chorus of laughter and so he turned about and politely (his frustration somewhat abated by the laughter having spared him displaying his ignorance to Lord Monica) asked, "Excuse me, but could you please keep it down".

He recognized the young man in the center of the sofa behind him as the one with the black ponytail who sat beside him during the opening ceremony but did not know either of the other two, female, cadets who sat on each side of him so close that they practically (he felt a heat creep into his cheeks) _clung_ to him.

"My apologies sir, I know how difficult it can be to court a lady, I'll try and keep this as…intimate…as possible", his sentence seemed less directed at Jeremiah and more towards his 'companions', he found himself slightly envious of this young man owing to his own failings at acting as the 'suave gentlemen' his sister had so ardently attempted to instill in him.

The Marquess then realized the man's impression that he had been trying to court Monica and any element of the above character he had sought to carry himself as shattered in embarrassment, Kruszewski fought to stave off her own flustered feeling by struggling through one of her beloved courtesies, "L-L-Lord Guilford, f-forgive me for not noticing you there…ah…h-how is your father, the Duke?".

"Oh Lord Monica, I didn't realize you were here either…my father is fine; busily concerned with the affairs of his elder sons as always", his charming manner was replaced by bitterness, "He hasn't even seen fit to grant me one of his ranks as a courtesy title such as yours and I'm still a year away from actually being able to claim my Lordship".

"Fear not, um, _Mister _Guilford…title or no I would never think of not honoring someone from such a superior-ranked House, especially one I've had the privilege of knowing so well", Monica humbly blurted before turning to a confused Jeremiah, "Ah, this is Mister Gilbert Guilford; his father and I have been firm friends since before we were born so we meet often back when we were children", she explained.

Guilford scoffed, "If only my father shared your opinion that I wasn't still a child, the irony being ladies-", he drew his arms tighter around the girls, "-that his youngest son now bears the most distinguished position of all his pampered brothers; personal attendant to Second Princess Cornelia herself", the provocative inflection he used made Jeremiah decidedly uncomfortable.

* * *

At that moment the door to the lounge burst open; the young staffer from earlier (he now knew her as Nonette Enneagram; a Knight of Colchester and one of his Class's instructors) and Princess Cornelia strode in through it.

The Marquess snapped to his feet and fell swiftly into a deep bow, Countess Kruszewski quickly joined him as did the womanizer and his 'friends', he realized then that Guilford's ponytail had been grown so long that it reached all the way down his back and lay on the ground as he bowed.

"Come at once Guilford…", the Princess' eyes flicked onto the two female cadets before fixing into a sharp gaze on the long-haired young man, "…being the son of a Duke hardly qualifies you as a royal escort", she spat icily before storming out of the room.

"Yes, at once ma'am!", Guilford's stern and official voice surprised Jeremiah but the wink he slyly shot to his admirers over his shoulder stopped him from re-evaluating the man's character and earned a playful remark from an observant Lady Nonette, "Be careful with that lover-boy stuff Mister Guilford or you'll break our poor Princess's heart!".

After the two of them departed to follow Cornelia a pair of pleasantly warm yet slightly sweaty and shaky hands caressed his arm, "Forgive me Marquess but…that was the Princess! I'd truly love to see her again, I've never meet a royal until today!", the almost childish glee with which she spoke reminded him of his own experience with Lady Marianne earlier.

He voiced his agreement to follow Monica (he could not deny his own curiosity on the young royal) and so the two of them scurried along following Nonette and Guilford, soon finding themselves standing out in the hall beside an ajar door through which their targets stood in conversation.

"Guilford, I want to make it clear that I don't need your 'attendance'; you are here only because my mother insisted that I receive an escort, however, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself", Cornelia sneered.

Guilford proceeded to assume an seemingly apologetic tone, "Yes, of course ma'am, I apologize that my father was so quick to acquiesce to your mother's wishes…he is a Duke, after all, it is their nature to curry favor…and believe me when I say that I will stay out of your way as often as I am capable", Jeremiah detected what may have been a hint of underlying spite (directed at both the Princess and his father) in this remark.

Nonette interjected through the darkening atmosphere in the room, "Ma'am? As in Madam? That's a title for women of common descent or nobles yet to attain a title; like you _Mister _Guilford", her snobbish impression furthered the joke and served to brighten the mood.

"But seriously though-", she contained her laughter, "-just hang back and help out our Princess whenever she needs it, that's not so bad is it Cornelia? Oh, and…", she slid in toward Guilford as she had done to himself not long ago, "…I'd keep the fraternizing to a minimum from now on, y'know?".

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a disapproving look on Lord Monica's face, no doubt as a result of the jovial and informal discourse of their instructor but his own reaction was one of surprise; Princess Cornelia readily assented to Lady Nonette's actions and Guilford seemed to take her chiding advice to heart, however much he may dislike what it entailed.

"Yes, I will do my best to follow your advice Lady Nonette", Cornelia's subservient tone, the complete change of her demeanor, astounded him; it was as if she was an entirely different person, "I admit that I was against my mother's appointment of a tutor at fist but I realize now that I can learn so much from a you my Lady; a Knight so greatly skilled beyond her years".

"Well I guess I'm pretty good for 20 ain't I? But don't get all little noble girl on me, we're buddies now so cheer up okay?", the Princess had an almost frightened look, as if she couldn't understand how Nonette could be so playful and yet so powerful, "Well, my schedule says Marianne's instructing you in about ten minutes, man you guys are lucky; starting off with the Chief, I wish I had a chance to be in Class A for my session", she whined.

Class A's first lesson would be instructed by Lady Marianne! Jeremiah flung his timetable almost violently before his eyes causing Monica to jump in fright…it was true! It was her! He would finally, after all these years, meet 'The Flash' herself!

He snapped toward Countess Kruszewski who held a look of worry and curiosity in equal measure, "Did you not hear, Lord Monica! We're to be instructed by Lady Marianne any minute now! Come, we must make all haste!", she could barely nod her head before Jeremiah grabbed onto her for the second time within the last hour and charged off in search of their assigned room with her.

* * *

"Marquess Jeremiah…the theatre…was back there", Monica panted; heaving through her exhaustion at having been dragged across half the Institute by a sprinting Jeremiah who had, in his haste, not even contemplated that he did not know the location of their upcoming class.

He quickly redirected his rampage and soon found himself sweeping through the theater door to find roughly a dozen of its hundred seats occupied, he felt relieved by the implication that this meager number of cadets in attendance meant that the class had not yet begun as a voice swept up to him from the podium at the bottom of the conical theater.

"There we are, that should be everyone now, please take a seat down here with all of us", this voice was saturated with a youthful enthusiasm yet it carried a wise, experienced (motherly, that's what it reminded him of) quality that carried him down the staircase; the narrowing of the theatre-cone reflected the intimate, secure and comfortable nature induced on him.

It was at this point Jeremiah came to the realization that despite all those years at the Troy estate that he spent intently studying Knights, Knightmare's, this Institute and Britannia itself he was severely lacking in practical knowledge; he had not looked on these issues with his own eyes, had never understood just how privileged noble life was and found himself incredibly thankful that he was able to be a part of it.

The Marquess took a seat before the podium, practically glowing in admiration, as did Kruszewski (who, unbeknownst to anyone else, harbored a dislike of the reaction being elicited from Jeremiah by their addresser) as Lady Marianne continued, "Well, today we're going to discuss rudimentary Knightmare Frame operation; first can anyone tell me about the effect which powers the Knightmare?".

He glanced around to see if the answer was as common knowledge as he thought but was met with almost entirely blank faces from his peers, it was at that point he noticed Mister Guilford; wearing a sour look and absent-mindedly grooming his plume of hair, and Princess Cornelia; who had sternly risen from her chair.

"That would be Yggdrasil Resonance. The centerpiece of the Frame; the Core Luminous, undergoes revolutions through the operation of the Yggdrasil Drive. These revolutions generate the Yggdrasil Resonance effect; activating the Knightmare and supplying it with sakuradite-supplied energy", the Princess delivered with a stalwart strength.

Marianne applauded before adopting a mischievous smile "Correct! Now, for a challenge, what is the model number designation of the prototype unit for the current mass-production models…come now everyone knows the Ganymede do they not?", a stifling silence blanketed the cadets and Cornelia returned to her seat with a defeated expression.

This time Jeremiah rose to his feet, "YF6-X7K/E, my Lady", he bottled his ecstatic emotions as best he could within an official voice, 'The Flash' locked eyes with him prompting perhaps the most nervous (yet, at the same time, the most thrilling) moment of his life so far, "Ah, we have a worthy challenger!", she mused.

Marianne proceeded to prompt a quiet exclamation from the audience as she gracefully hopped from the podium and up the staircase, coming to a stop on the stairs between and before both him and the Princess and giggling, "I wonder if either of you can tell me about the module which collates informa-", before she could finish both cadets shouted; "Factsphere!", in a race to answer before the other.

Marianne broke out in refined laughter as she placed a hand atop the head of the Princess and the Marquess, "Your Highness, I apologize if I-", Cornelia's sudden demure squeak was met abruptly by the sweet sound of the beaming Empress, "I think the three of us will have an interesting three years, don't you?".

In Jeremiah's mind there was only one reply, "Yes, Your Majesty!".


	7. Stage Turn 07: Courting at Camelot

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 07: Courting at Camelot **_

**a.t.b. 2007 **

The wave of carriages was like an avalanche; roaring along the immaculate white roadway (itself looking like solidified snow) that lead from the Institute down a mountain slope before crashing down upon the complex.

Jeremiah stepped out from his coach as its driver opened the door before turning to offer a hand to Monica who, with a blush and an unsteady nod, took it as she hopped out from inside.

As her feet landed on the road her distracted demeanor seemingly caused her to become unbalanced; one of her feet slipped backwards and she fell forward with a gasp, grabbing onto his chest to prevent herself from falling, "I'm so sorry Marquess Jeremiah, I wasn't paying attention and…oh dear I, oh dear", she squirmed both verbally and physically.

He was about to tell her it was no trouble but he could not bring himself to emit anything but a high-pitched squeak, Lord Kruszewski was fidgeting in his arms as she scrambled to further endow her apology, meanwhile their bodies were pressed together and he could feel her warm and tender chest pleasantly rubbing against his own…no, he was a gentleman, he couldn't dwell on…_that_! He needed to find a way out of this predicament…fast!

"All cadets! Assemble in your assigned formations! Posthaste!", Lady Ernst's barked commands sounded like a message of salvation to him as the Countess released her hold on him; the two had become close friends over their first year at Colchester, unfortunately he still found any remotely intimate situation with a female awkwardly difficult.

As they took their places among the cadets the Marquess noticed his companion staring at the her feet with a somewhat dejected look, one he assumed to be a result of the Viscountess' presence as the two had never connected; he had come to notice Lady Dorothea shared a strict adherence to authority with Lord Monica but the former's battle hardened severity was in stark contrast to the compulsively genteel politeness of the latter.

"I need not remind you of the great privilege you've been given this day", the instructor boomed as she paced back and forth before them like a commander before their army, "What you see before you is the headquarters of the Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corps (ASEEC), the institution which develops the finest weapon of our Empire; the Knightmare Frame".

"We have been allowed to attend an exhibition of the prototype schematic for the first fifth generation Knightmare, now all of you will proceed-", Dorothea gave a intimidating glare rivaling Lilicia's as Monica's hand shot aloft, "Kruszewski, you'd best have a good reason to interrupt", she sneered.

"Forgive me, my Lady", the Countess bowed shyly, "But I believe the ladies of the Warrick Palace Society are also attending today and that we've been invited to accompany them if we so please…may we?", she trembled out.

The veteran instructor gave a dismissive sigh indicating she didn't care if Monica chose to spend the excursion with the Society, personally Jeremiah was ecstatic in lieu of the Knightmare Frame lecture but he had been somewhat torn as Lilicia would be among the visiting noblewomen.

He and his sister had both been very occupied over the past year; a Colchester cadetship was as stringent as they come and she had matters of both the Society and the House of Lords to juggle, as such they rarely met in person (although the little Marchioness regularly phoned the Institute's dormitory where most cadets, including him and Monica, resided).

Their Class A entourage filed into the lobby of the facility (which was situated within Colchester property as the academy had a Research & Development branch whose cadets often served as interns here) where they were given a gracious greeting by a group of young ladies; Lilicia was among their numbers and she, on sight, skipped over to them excitedly. Even knowing that it had been quite some time since the two had met the Marquess was surprised to see his normally serious sister so vehemently cheerful…but as his sister neared it appeared that she barely noticed her brother, rather, Lilicia flung herself into an embrace of Lord Kruszewski, "Countess Monica! After talking for all this time we finally see each face-to-face! We've so much to discuss! To plan! To-", an extremely uncharacteristic, girlish squeal escaped amidst her bubbly spiel.

At this point the pair were hopping up and down with each others hands clasped (an act which Jeremiah, due to their mutual excessive formality, could hardly imagine either of them doing) when they observed his lost, dumbfounded expression, "Oh, it's been a while, hasn't it brother?", the Marchioness spoke in an earnest, if blandly nonchalant, manner.

He was still in the dark as to how they knew one another, yet alone became so close, which Monica attempted to rectify, "Marquess Jeremiah your sister and I have been in correspondence for some time now but we'd yet to actually meet, that is why I wish to go along with her tour group today".

Despite still wondering how the two came in contact in the first place and why his sister made no remark on Kruszewski's use of his first name (as his noble class was superior to hers) the Marquess retained only one persisting problem with the situation; "But Monica (he was briefly startled that Lilicia wasn't bothered with him not using a formal title) if you go with my sister you'll miss the new Knightmare-", his whining ceased as Lilicia stamped up to him.

"Knightmare! A machine! It's worthless to be thinking about such things at a time like this Jeremiah (a first name in public again! What was happening to her!)…oh, yes that's right!", she skipped back (skipping…_her_!) to her fellow Society ladies then returned pushing along a curious-looking girl with her face pointed down slightly in a nervous fashion.

"You said you wanted to attend that lecture, didn't you? This is my elder brother; he'd be more than happy to take you along I'm sure. Oh! Our entourage is moving off! See you at the meeting afterwards you two!", as the two bafflingly enthused women moved off the Marquess was left with the purple haired girl, "Thankyou for letting me come along Marquess Gottwald; my name is Cecile, Cecile Croomy, pleased to meet you".

* * *

At Lady Ernst's behest they filed into the complex's conference area; a rectangular room abounding with a sleek chrome surface whose seating was composed of wide lounges in hollowed-out trenches across the floor.

Jeremiah stepped down into the empty font-most trench as he wanted the best seat he could for what waited them, Cecile seemed similarly pleased at this decision and he could now make out a childish excitement pervading through her nerves as he helped her down to be seated to his right.

Dorothea herself descended into a seated position on his left side triggering a nervous glance from the Marquess which she met with one of praise and responded to haughtily, "Well Gottwald, good to see one cadet paying due attention to the weapons which will shape our future, frankly some of you waste the privileges afforded by your high birth…Kruszewski for example".

The instructor shifted to stare at the girl to the right, "And who might you be girl", her imposing tone prompted her younger addressee to tremble out, "C-Cecile Cr-Croomy, from the Warrick Palace Society, ma'am", Ernst's menacing face weakened, "Croomy…your parents are the Co-Directors of ASEEC aren't they? It'd certainly explain why you'd come here rather than stay with those infernal socialites", Dorothea wasn't a Society fan it seemed.

Croomy nodded happily but as she moved to discuss her parents the Viscountess leant her head to the front of the room where he noticed the translucent wall light up, revealing itself to be translucent before data flew across its electronic surface to form a vaguely humanoid schematic.

A melodious sing-song type voice pervaded the room from beyond the wall screen, "I am a genius Asplund and geniuses do not allow themselves to be late to opportunities to flaunt their genius because of a lowly simpleton who cannot finish his blasted pudding! Get out there now you insufferable oaf!".

An automatic door camouflaged against the wall swished apart as a bespectacled young man with a mop of silver hair tumbled through it, his lab coat (sporting the same design as Jeremiah's cadet uniform; indicating he belonged to their R&D branch) sporting a brown smudge on the collar.

The spluttering man plopped a bowl containing some manner of wobbly desert onto a table which had raised nearby after a brown-skinned woman pressed some non-visible switch on the wall with the same hand she'd just used to bat aside her flowing light-blonde tresses, "Lord Lloyd Asplund, ladies and gentleman, aspiring scientist and son of an Earl no less…it's sad that this is what passes for nobility nowadays", she huffed.

"Rak-shata", this Lloyd continued to cough, "A great mind needs great sustenance, besides the RPI-13 is really just a slightly re-tooled RPI-11 to allow for anti-Knightmare capability for dealing with those Glasgow facsimile's the EU and the Federation have been cooking up; it's really quite a dull thing".

The Knight of Seven rose, turning behind herself to face the rows of cadets, "Well you've been introduced to Lord Asplund", her commanding manner mixed with a hint of sarcasm before she gestured to the woman behind her, "This is Rakshata Chawla, also an R&D cadet, who hails from the Militarized Zone of India on 'exchange'", she spitefully worded.

India was one of the territories comprising the Chinese Federation who Lilicia had told him to have been in a state of passive revolution ever since their subjugation; dealing weapons and supplying military/scientific personnel to several other powers (Britannia included) in their bid to secure the stability with which to become independent without fear of reprisal.

The Federation allowed these practices as not doing so would violate the trade rights afforded to their territories (which formed a bulk of its economy due to the Chinese state itself bearing a strict trade policy) and deprive them of the economic boon said trade beget, which (alongside the sheer mass of its standing army) maintained its status among the three superpowers.

"You two are to present the prototype, begin then", Dorothea's snarl was met by a bored drone from Asplund, "Well it's designated RPI-13 but they've taken to calling it Sutherland now after a generous funding for it's design by that Duke of Sutherland. ASEEC's so dependant on public funding, it's no longer the golden age when royal patronage allowed the Ashford's to make such wonderful progress!", he flamboyantly finished.

During the Lord's presentation his compatriot, Chawla, had contorted into a distasteful expression directed at the instructor, "Enough! Now, a marvelous idea (she indicated herself, paying no mind to Lloyd or any of the other developers) was to rework the connection between the Yggdrasil Drive and the Landspinners for this model; I doubt any of you can grasp the effect this produces?", she appeared to derive pleasure from Ernst's agitated silence.

Jeremiah himself was straining to find a valid answer when Cecile's petit, inquisitive voice piped up, "Um, I think it would enhance the unit's speed; more Resonance would generate more thrust. Actually it'd be more maneuverable altogether: turning, jumping, all it needs is a pair of wings!".

"Well it seems like you've got more competition Rakshata", the Earl's son hummed, "Competition? From a little girl? And what do you mean 'more'? Don't tell me you consider yourself competition to me Lord Pudding, I'll be taking the Second Prince's Camelot grant undoubtedly", the Indian woman retorted as the Marquess found himself captivated by the Frame before him…one day, he thought, he'd stand astride that machine as a great Knight.

* * *

Jeremiah finally reached the restaurant area where the cadets from the lecture were to meet with the Society ladies and the cadets accompanying them, Croomy had been chattering away with the two presenter cadets and when he once moved to politely coax her away her elbow shifted uncomfortably close to his crotch…he was unsure if this was deliberately done on her part but he had no desire to try again and find out.

Lilicia and Lord Monica moved over from one of the tables to meet them, "Well brother, thankyou for taking the young lady here along", 'young'…his sister was only a year older than Cecile herself, that's more like the Lilicia he knew, "Yes, thankyou, I hope we meet again soon my Lord", the girl curtsied as she returned to the noblewomen at the tables.

A moment of silence crept over the three of them until the impatient Marchioness nudged her Countess friend, "Come now Monica, just as we discussed, go ahead and ask him…Oh, that's right, I'll give you two some privacy, good luck", and she bounded away like Cecile beforehand leaving him again confused and Kruszewski rooted to the spot with terrified anxiety.

"I…that is to say…well-", he was distracted from her stutter by a familiar voice from behind, "Jeremiah, I'd begun to think you weren't coming back from that lecture", he turned to find Princess Cornelia and her attendant (now 17 and hence a Lord), Guilford, come through the doors.

"Kruszewski", the Second Princess acknowledged his companion who seemed both relieved and dispirited at being interrupted, "Now to the point; Lady Marianne is here running a re-activation test of the Ganymede and I've been invited to attend-", she cleared her throat uncomfortably, "I know we share a great respect for the Empress so-", she cleared it again uncomfortably, "-would you care to join us", she rushed through.

"Your Highness!", the recently dubbed Lord stepped forth in exclamation and only then did the Marquess observe the eyeglasses set atop his nose, he certainly hadn't had them when they last met mere days ago, "I'm supposed to escort you there; he needn't come, I'm happy to accompany you myself!".

His eyes met the royal attendant's prompting him to grimace as if he had let slip something which others may interpret as being…forward to the Princess, the man also realized Jeremiah was staring at his spectacles which caused him to snap them from his face and into his breast pocket.

"No need to worry Guilford, I'm sure they'll allow me one guest", Cornelia's rebuffing looking somewhat humiliated, "Yes Princess Cornelia, of course", the invited Marquess had grown tired of being confused today; since where these two overcome their animosity…and become _friendly_!

"Well, you'll come will you not?", he definitely wanted to (how often did one get the chance to see 'The Flash' in action) but turned to excuse himself from Lord Monica's presence, "No, go right ahead Marquess…we can speak anytime", she said, apparently sensing his intentions, and he thanked her.

By the time he got his wits about him (the royal strode at such a thundering pace that both him and Guilford occasionally broke into a jog in order to keep up) Jeremiah found himself in an enclosed balcony overlooking a large cube-shaped chamber in which a group of white-clad staff huddled around a crouched Ganymede…he threw himself up to the window in excitement.

"Ah, Second Princess Cornelia! Your presence is an honor, Your Highness". a later-middle aged mustachioed man with gray-strewn blonde hair bowed, "Milly! This lady is a Princess, remember the manners we discussed!", he instructed the girl looking out the window beside Jeremiah.

This man and girl shared a definite familial resemblance he noticed (much like the one between the Gottwald heiress and her mother) as the latter gave an annoyed sigh as she moved over and curtsied, "I'm Milly Ashford, your presence is a-", she seemed to forget her assigned line much to the man's discomfort, "-honor, Your Highness", she remembered triumphantly.

"Lord Jeremiah this is Lord Ruben Ashford; President of the Ashford Foundation, Lord Ashford this is Marquess Jeremiah Gottwald; a cadet in the same session as myself", Cornelia introduced them (he knew much about Lord Ashford from his studies of Marianne and Knightmare's).

The Ashford Foundation was an organization created by the Ashford family (pioneers of the lucrative engineering field in Britannia) which operated both as private contractors in this sector and a prestigious school for aspiring engineers, it was in the former capacity that they created the emergency survival cockpits for the Britannian military; the devices which had come to be recognized as the first generation of Knightmare Frame's.

The Rosenberg Institute (which co-operates with the armed forces as its developer of weapons technology and is the parent body of all other Britannian scientific divisions) created the Special Dispatch Guidance System Division (SDGSD) to convert these into weapons and, with the Foundation's co-operation, fitted them with Factsphere's and mounted them on Landspinner-equipped legs; hence the second generation Frame's.

"Lord Ashford!", he both bowed and saluted, "I'm a great admirer of your work; the Royal Panzer Infantry (RPI), which we aspiring Knights all hope to be a part of, exists only because of your Foundation's creations", Lord Ruben gave a refined laugh, "You flatter me my boy, most would say the Foundation's in a tight spot as of late; what with Rosenberg re-branding SDGSD into ASEEC and seemingly taking over our market with their whole fourth generation mass-production series nonsense".

An ambitious, borderline sinister, smirk cut across his lips, "But society forgets the Ashford's were once common mechanics, just look at us now! We've been bestowed Lordship. Our patron is the Empress herself. And once we have the results of this simple test we'll begin a perfection of the very machine which solidified our reputation as the finest scientists of our Empire. The world will know that there is no height our family can't climb".

"Gramps!", the girl Milly whined from below Ashford, "You said I could take photos of the Empress lady and her robot to sell to the newspapers, right!", this embarrassed her apparently profiteering grandfather, "Milly, dear, my friend Dr. Albert is here helping like always and he brought his granddaughter Nina along; don't you want to go play with her?".

"But Gramps you promise you'd share some of the money with me and last time I tried to play with Nina she was too busy reading _and_ when she stopped she got all scared and started crying just cuz I told her she-", Ruben gave a boisterous cough to drown out the end of Milly's crossed-arm pouting, "Very well, very well, take all the pictures you want dear…", he knelt down and whispered something the Marquess couldn't hear, "Make sure you get a good one when the Lady poses, it'll earn a pretty penny".

Mechanical hustle and bustle came from down below prompting all of them to edge over to the window, the Knight of Six rose into the air atop the Ganymede's left hand where she gracefully outstretched her right arm (she had been a good sport when Ashford asked her to pose it seemed).

A click and a flash came from Miss Milly's camera beside him and, gazing at his idol in a skin-tight pilot suit of purest white adorned with patches of deep purple and sparkling golden regalia standing up on high angelically with her raven hair framing her kind face, the effervescent bubbling in his heart lead him to decide that he would most definitely buy one of those pictures from the Ashford's afterwards…no matter what the price may be.


	8. Stage Turn 08: Of Duelists

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 08: Of Duelists **_

**a.t.b. 2008 **

And so his third and final year at the Institute had begun to draw to a close, today was the final day of their schooling; their graduation if you will, in which the successful cadets were knighted and bestowed merits for their performance (including the coveted Knight of Colchester title).

Jeremiah Gottwald was on the verge of the moment which he had eagerly awaited for the last three years, as he stood among the other members of this session's Class A he assured himself that he was most worthy of the title; before long he had come to perceive only Princess Cornelia and Gilbert Guilford as capable of competing with his performance in Colchester…Lord Monica was quite skilled herself but she (almost oddly, he thought) never earned a result on par with his own.

The cadets had been assembled in a line stretching down the center of the very same theater in which their opening ceremony was held, crowds of elaborately dressed nobles sat on either side of them as spectators for the knighting which the cadets would receive; entitling them Sir or Lady.

He had been told that the ritual was conducted in the same manner for each session; Class A began with their Chief Instructor conducting the ceremony then each subsequent Class would follow, descending in order of their noble rank, and then spectators and instructors in attendance would decline…even as an A cadet this offended the Marquess; they may be of lesser status than him, but they had qualified for the Institute just as he had (a matter which would only have been more difficult for them) and deserved the same respect which he was to attain…except for one accolade, of course!

Before him the Second Princess knelt humbly, in front of her were their three instructors; Nonette and Dorothea to the left and right and Marianne directly in front, the Empress said something inaudible over the clamor of the crowd before touching a sword to the younger royal's shoulders.

A moment later Cornelia stood to face the cadets and audience behind her to be met with a thunderous applause to which he readily joined in, he felt great pride that their Empire was blessed with two royal women of such great ability, Lord Guilford was directly in front of him and next to step up.

As the Princess strode off to the side of the instructors (where they had all been notified to proceed to afterward) a staffer came up alongside them and handed the bespectacled cadet a sheathed blade before he knelt down before Lady Marianne at which point Jeremiah noticed his previously wild, flowing ponytail had been trimmed neatly to his shoulders…had it been done just for this event?

The young Lord passed his weapon to their Chief Instructor but the Marquess was distracted from the proceedings that followed in his bid to place Guilford's character; he had been so promiscu-that is…_free-willed_ when they'd first met, then after a year or so he'd become close to the royal he'd been attending and by now his mannerism had deviated drastically…but even then he had always seem to prize that long hair of his.

He was shocked from his ponderings as another round of applause broke out in the chamber, the newly-dubbed Knight marched off as they had been indicated and Jeremiah realized with a nervous excitement that his turn had come, he moved up to the stage as the same staff member from earlier ritualistically entrusted him with his first sword as a Knight; a symbol of the strength and loyalty which Knighthood represented.

His hands began feverishly sweating as they clenched around the grip of the armament, Lady Marianne looked at him proudly as he crouched down before her, "Marquess Jeremiah Gottwald, do you wish to accept the responsibilities of Knighthood and fight as a champion of Britannia?", the Empress began his ceremony, "Yes, Your Highness", he replied in turn.

"Do you pledge yourself to be a sword and shield of this Empire, devoted to its greater good?", he returned the same answer as before but this time he tightened his fingers around the sword and slid it as finely as he could from its sheath (an act he had rehearsed countless times the day prior) and held the grip outstretched to the Knight of Six whose delicate fingers brushed tenderly against his own as she it took the blade and brought its tip striking upward with what could only have been a flourish of expert swordplay.

This woman never ceased to amaze him, his eyes could barely follow the flurry of steel and he resisted the urge to gulp in fear when the metal point gently passed over his neck to touch upon both of his shoulders at the hands of an apparent master of its wielding, "I, 98th Empress of the Holy Britannian Empire; Marianne vi Britannia, dub thee Sir Jeremiah Gottwald, may your courage and devotion become a shinning example to the people of the Empire", the new Knight received the weapon his Empress returned.

As Sir Jeremiah Gottwald secured the armament at his side then rose, turning to bask in the adulation of the others in attendance of the ceremony among which he could make out Lilicia (torn between praising her brothers achievement and begrudging his commitment to a military career) and a exuberantly applauding Lord Monica, who was cued behind him for her own knighting, …he felt he had turned to face a entirely new future.

* * *

The two Glasgow units were locked in a mock duel in the center of the arena; each Knightmare with its arms launched before it in seizing the hands of the other, this contest of strength had persisted for several tense moments (neither willing to break the stalemate hold in their fixation on overpowering the opponent) with the knee joints of the Frame's grinding together sending sparks of mechanical friction scattering through the air.

Sir Gottwald's face was twisted under the sheer pressure of his current situation; all the exertion his body could muster (which had never been anything notable until he began physical drills and personal training at Colchester) was being squeezed through his arms, simultaneously the force coming from the opposing Glasgow was channeled through their machines, into the handles he clasped and up into his biceps as a shooting pain which felt as if they would tear in just one more wince of sickening pain.

The young Knight wrenched himself forward from the seat in his cockpit, pushing back an urge to vomit from the intensity squeezing tightly down on his body, and leant as far as he could against the bucking handles which controlled the Glasgow (as if in the hope that his own weight would tip the balance of the contest in his favor); his nose coming to press against the interface screen which blared red in indication that the arm modules were in critical condition…Damn! Since the training module's specs had been reduced from the authentic Glasgow they couldn't keep this up any longer without their arms being jettisoned, curse these mock battle regulations!

In the exact same predicament his opponent opened a transmission channel between them which the Marquess mimicked causing the haggard face of Sir Gilbert Guilford to appear in a panel on the interface; his glasses barely hanging on the tip of his nose and clumped strands of hair sticking to his forehead from which droplets of seat trickled down off his chin, the proximity between his eyes and his foe's visage mirroring their heated conflict, "Enough of this! We end it with one final strike Gottwald!".

"My thoughts-", he missed a breath amidst his ragged heaving, "-exactly, Sir Guilford", and the two machines released each other and zoomed to opposite sides of the arena, this break from the embroiling confrontation felt like an eternity; as if he had suddenly become unaware of the passage of time after being liberated from the long and arduous lock-up…and it was in this period of peace that his mind strayed back to what began this duel.

* * *

_Their knighting ceremony concluded, the cadets of Class A gathered in a chamber behind the cavernous hall where they were soon joined by all three of their instructors…Jeremiah had been unsure what they were to do here but, seeing as the official proceedings had now ceased, he had only one thought as to what it must be. _

"_Well then Class!", a royally furbished Lady Marianne announced, "I believe it's time to dub this session's Knight of Colchester, exciting isn't it! I knew this year was going to be close so I wanted it to be a surprise to me too! I can't wait! Hurry and bring the results!", she bubbled. _

_Yes! He knew it! It was finally time for all the arduous trials he'd suffered through in his cadetship to be adequately recognized, for his fellow cadets and idol to witness this glorious moment which he had so thoroughly earned; just now a Knight he would now take his first step to Knight of One! _

_Following the notice of a staff member Marianne gasped, smiled and then; "Our newest Knight of Colchester is…", Sir Gottwald was agonized at the maiden's dramatic pause, "…Cornelia li Brittania!". _

_As the rest of the class broke out in applause Jeremiah's heart sunk, he felt as if his head had just become weightless, his arms lank and lifeless, his legs melting out from beneath him and his eyes set upon by a hot, wet ebb…he wasn't Knight of Colchester…had he…__**failed?**_

_Countess Kruszewski had detected his unstable condition, placing a hand to his shoulder and inquiring if he was alright, however, this went completely unobserved by Jeremiah who was being overcome by waves of indeterminable emotion surging up from his belly, "Congratulations Princess Cornelia, truly you deserved the title, do you know who you wish to challenge to the KoC's traditional duel?", Guilford asked admiringly. _

_Cornelia seemed unsteady; casting a nervous gaze over in his direction and it was at this moment that he realized the waves crashing ashore his mind were of a stormy sea of seething anger, he should be KoC! He had never been outperformed by Cornelia! He was the superior Knight! He should, no, he __**must**__ be the one to duel her to prove this superiority to all! He'd prove a Gottwald never fails! The fate of his sister, his House, lay upon him. _

"_Princess!", he roared unable to restrain his frustrated fury eliciting a squeak of fright from Monica, "You have to allow me to duel with you! Please, I beg of you!", he had thrown himself to his knees; crouched over into a ball with his brow against the floor begging for her to accept. _

_Lady Ernst gave a bemused reaction, "The boy's got a soldier's fire and I admire that in a man, besides, we know he can put a Knightmare to work", she snapped toward the Second Princess, "It'll get my blood pumping, more than I can say for most mock battles…war's a whole other beast…but I support this match-up Your Highness, it should show your true skills". _

_Jeremiah inwardly thanked the Knight of Seven (he kept his lips welded shut for fear of further outbursts escaping them) as Lady Enneagram spoke up, "Hey Dorothea, sure it'd be a good fight but Cornelia's the KoC so she can decide for herself and as for you!", Nonette's addressed him with a stern and intimidating tone which contrasted her normal playfulness…yet her blunt casualness remained…this woman had always instilled him with some unsettling fear as he was never sure which was her actual self or if she was just playing one of her many jokes…he still wasn't. _

_Their young instructor continued, "If you go telling my little sis what she's gotta do then I'll have to give you a-", Sir Guilford swept before Enneagram signaling her to stop, "Lady Nonette,", he stared into Cornelia's eyes, "My Princess, please, don't honor Gottwald's insolence by granting him your duel; allow me to face him in your stead…", he swallowed, "…I intend to be your Knight, so, I __**will**__ defend your honor". _

_Apparently torn between these different opinions Cornelia's words seemed caught in her throat as the Empress placed her hand on the Princess's shoulder, "It seems these two young men have both have an issue to be dealt with; perhaps it would be best to let them settle this amongst themselves, then we'll have clear heads to figure this out. Cornelia? Boys?". _

_Cornelia assented to her heroine and the ceremonial duel was set aside so that Jeremiah and Guilford might face-off; the former to show he was the one to face Cornelia in proving he should be KoC and the latter to defend his royal's honor and show himself capable of becoming her Knight: the two were now bent on a mock battle…with their reputation's at stake. _


	9. Stage Turn 09: Of Dames

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 09: Of Dames **_

**a.t.b. 2008 **

**(in the midst of the duel between Sir Jeremiah Gottwald and Sir Gilbert Guilford to prove the former's worth to participate in the KoC's duel) **

The two combatants faced each other from across the training arena with their Class as spectators from the grandstand outside the reinforced observation panel which served as the arena's roof.

Other than the two Slash Harkens built into their practice Frame's torso the code of conduct for Britannian dueling stipulated they each be armed with one weapon of their choice; while his rapidly matured foe had equipped a pair of elbow-mounted Tonfa (one to each arm, a melee-reliant choice), the Marquess had selected the rarely-used Stun Gun attached to his machine's cockpit (it's ability to incapacitate an enemy pilot in one shock off-set by its restriction to point-blank range; difficult to land but also to defend against).

Sir Gottwald took the initiative; pitching his unit forward while swinging it into a series of rapid clockwise rotations, a maneuver which crippled his visibility but also Guilford's ability to visualize his movements, timing his revolutions he ground to a halt to face his foe head-on and fired his Harkens, his circular movements having disguised the attack.

The Princess' attendant caught this firing spryly but the time available for him to react was not sufficient to evade due to Jeremiah's tactics, instead he struck out with his Tonfa to block the projectile weapons causing them to clamp onto the forearms of Guilford's Frame; just as planned!

He clicked back the trigger he had just fired and then struck forth with the Glasgow's handles, causing the Harken wires to begin pulling his Knightmare toward Guilford's at a thundering speed; he was now zooming towards his opponent (his thrust enhanced by the Harkens pulling force) in order to deliver a finishing blow with his weapon at point-blank range.

Yet Jeremiah knew better than to believe he had won; his eyes were intently fixed on the foe he flew toward while his head was abuzz with fanatic shout of his impending triumph so long as-he spotted movement from the torso unit of Gilbert's machine; a counterattack! Just as anticipated!

He wrenched the training model up into midair (by that time Guilford would have set his Harkens; he would now either fire and miss or have to reset their trajectory, the latter giving Jeremiah time to close in and finish this!), where he couldn't help but break into a winning smile as the blur of a projectile sped under him; Guilford missed! He had this under control!

At that moment the cockpit jerked abruptly, the Marquess' head clipped the left side of the pilot's compartment as he glimpsed on the monitors that one Harken had imbedded its tip into the right flank; before he could gather that Sir Guilford had adjusted his Harkens to be able to fired separately (rather than both at once as was standard) he found himself being reeled down into a bone shaking dive to the arena floor; nearly knocked out on collision.

Straining his head up to see the monitor he became aware that Guilford had used the imbalance of him being hit by that one Harken to break off the Harkens clamped upon his arm modules, he was now using one arm to support the wire lodged in Jeremiah's Frame and the other to pull it toward himself; Sir Gottwald was now being dragged into his mercy.

Despite his foe's efficient system for reeling him into the melee range, at which he would be at the Tonfa's mercy, only one of the wires had seized Jeremiah (reducing the speed with which he was pulled) giving him some time to secure the foothold he had created by driving his left Landspinner into the ground upon his earlier collision with it, he wasn't beaten yet.

Guilford couldn't see this; the bulk of Jeremiah's Glasgow concealing its maintained footing as their machines were now seconds from colliding, "I shall finish this in one blow Gottwald, for her Highness I shall not falter!", he disengaged the Harken and rose his Tonfa poised to strike, "Forgive me Lord Guilford but I, Jeremiah Gottwald, cannot allow myself to be defeated here either; in the name of my House **I **shall not falter!", he retorted.

Jeremiah caught Guilford off-guard as he launched himself up at him from his hidden footing, the royal attendant's height advantage (standing above his opponent) compensated somewhat for this surprise attack and he swung his weapons forth; catching the mid-section joint of Gottwlad's Knightmare between them which jettisoned the entire lower half of his training model.

However, the upper half of his Glasgow now hung in the air directly before Gilbert's cockpit and the younger man braced himself for what he knew would come next; the Stun Gun extended from the torso of the bisected machine and the barrel came to press against the metal hatch before it with a crackling surge of electricity and a choked outburst of agony from the pilot.

* * *

That night was their graduation function; a night to dress finely and celebrate all they had accomplished thus far before beginning their duties as Knights…but Sir Jeremiah Gottwald was far from celebrating.

The duel between him and Sir Gilbert Guilford had been declared a draw as, within the same exchange, they had each been defeated as per the mock duel regulations; Jeremiah had lost half his Frame and Guilford had been incapacitated…in the rush to get the young attendant to the infirmary the traditional KoC duel had been suspended indefinitely and both he and his Princess would now apparently be absent from tonight's festivities.

He felt like the lowliest person in the world, in one day he'd: failed to become KoC, disgraced himself in pleading for his worth to be recognized, hospitalized a fellow cadet/Knight/Britannian, almost certainly earned the disdain of the Second Princess for these actions, interrupted the most honored tradition of their Institute and (worst of all) done all this before Lady Marianne…of all people she was among those who bore witness.

As he sat bent over in a corner of the hall filled with elaborately fashioned graduates dancing, socializing and enjoying themselves in the lavish supplies of cuisine, drinks and music on offer he tipped the glass of champagne he had been staring gloomily at to his lips and allowed himself to take a sip of its contents, causing him to grimace and thrust out his tongue as if choking; this tasted foul! How could anyone enjoy this!

Countess Kruzewski gazed concernedly from the seat beside his, caressing his back soothingly and explaining that the popular consensus was that he had bested Guilford as, had it been an authentic duel, the unconscious Guilford would have been at his mercy in an attempt to alleviate his depression…the Marquess agreed but was still mired in his other foibles.

The reflection of his sullen eyes in the liquid before him sparked contemplation of his aversion to alcohol until this point; having prided himself on his self control and dedication to his ambitions he had looked down on it and those who indulged in it as weak…but if there was any chance it could assuage his melancholy he would partake, hence he forced another gulp of the bubbly bile as he realized a presence behind them.

"Yo! You two were tough ta find, hangin' out in a dingy little corner like this", Lady Nonette announced causing him to emit a ragged cough after unexpectedly swallowing his champagne and knock the glass (he was somewhat relieved that its remaining content spilled onto the table), "So Cornelia sent me down ta tell ya Gilbert's all sunshine 'n' rainbows now, but shes's gonna stay put ta take care of him or sumthin', young love ya know!".

Now Enneagram had never been the most formal person he'd known but Jeremiah would almost resort to Lilicia-like claims of her audacity had he not known the great affection she shared with them all, Lady Monica (whom he had just notice through his misery still wore her uniform, strange as even he had managed to change into formal wear for the event) looked up from wiping the wet table down with a handkerchief procured from her breast pocket to ask alarmed, "Will they be able to attend tomorrow?".

"Sure, they oughta, the docs said Gilbert just needs a little rest ta get over the **shock**", she snickered at the double entendre and even Monica politely restrained a laugh but he could not join knowing he had inflicted it, "And I don't reckon they'd miss what you got planned either!".

The composure their instructor had regained slipped as if she had alluded to something she shouldn't have, "Anyway! Your Knights now! What a relief, I can finally talk ta ya like buddies! No more teacher~student formal stuff!", she snatched up a filled glass and rose it as if in toast, "I say we have enough fun for both of them lovebirds!",…if she had considered her conduct hitherto to be "formal" this casualness must be authentic.

Though her presence had inspired some slight cheer in the Marquess he still felt in no mood for jolly socializing, "Forgive me ladies, but I think I'll retire for this evening", Kruszewski face was worried and Nonette stood to bar his passage, "Look, I wanted Cornelia ta tell ya this cuz I think that girl's got a fire in her belly she needs ta start lettin' out, but she's already sorted it out with Marianne ta make it so both of ya are the KoC this year".

He couldn't believe it! Never in the Institute's history had the KoC been bestowed on more than one individual, as the awardee (not to mention a Princess) and with her favorable relation to the Chief Instructor he reasoned that she should be capable of it…but why? After his actions today?

The woman seemed to catch his bewilderment and explained, "She was sorta surprised to beat ya ta KoC; ya were both close 'n' she was pretty ticked off that people'd think she only got it cuz she was a royal, I guess she felt for ya when ya spoke up about wantin' ta prove yourself, then ya went 'n' had that sweet duel with Guilford 'n' she decided ya deserved it".

So the Princess didn't detest him, rather, she **sympathized** with him! She had even extended her honor as KoC to him and the Empress had agreed to have it shared between them; he gathered then that she couldn't be too stacked against him either! Just as his spirits began to soar at the realization that he hadn't suffered his first taste of failure he spewed out his remnant misgivings, "But I ruined the ceremonial duel! And Lord Guilford is-".

Nonette scoffed and wagged a finger before his eyes, "Ruined! That was the best mock duel I ever saw! Except for mine last session, of course! And sure Gilbert's probably gonna be a bit sore about gettin' beat like that 'n' all but if sumthin' like that happened in front of someone **you** were sweet on ya'd be pretty down to, right?", Jeremiah replied affirmatively; for some reason he couldn't quite place he felt profound empathy to this scenario.

Thanking Lady Enneagram for delivering him from this slump he had fallen into (and promising to humble himself before Cornelia and Guilford as well) he consented to join them for the rest of the evening, prompting the Countess to light up only to be unnerved when their instructor suggested they share a dance (both having learnt to do so as part of their noble upbringing, though he had never put his knowledge to practice).

* * *

This situation was disturbed by a commotion from the entrance to the hall nearest to them which several cadets turned to spectate upon; a young woman in cadet uniform half lay and half sat on the floor, her silvery hair tied at he back draping down to cover her face, with a seemingly drunken staff-affiliated man standing over her with a fuming temperament.

"You insolent little bitch! This is a private gathering of the nobility graduating from the current session! How dare a filthy common dog such as you step foot in the presence of your betters! To think your filth-covered kind were ruled by our forefathers to be true Britannians same as us: it sickens me! Do you think yourself equal to we pure nobles! As a proud Lord of our Empire I shall punish you!", he brought his sheathed blade down hard against the side of her head, flattening her to the floor.

Sir Gottwald, seized by the integrity he was now intended to embody as a Knight and for the sake of his fellow cadets as a soon to be Knight of Colchester, threw himself between them as he clutched the hilt of the sword at his side (his pride at being knighted leading him to carry it even in his formal dress…he felt until recently it was all the honor he had left).

"My Lord", through his nerves at confronting a Britannian aristocrat in the employ of the Institute he gave his best attempt at remaining calm whilst still exerting strength, "This young lady wears the uniform of an Imperial Colchester Institute cadet, therefore, I postulate that she has simply been confused in mistaking tonight's affair for tomorrow's, that is all".

He summoned his pride in order to quell the nervousness which had begun to creep into his hand causing the weapon held by it to shake very noticeably, "I, Marquess Jeremiah of the House of Gottwald, beseech you; please put down your sword and let us resolve this as proud Brittanian gentleman", the elder man apologized and bowed hastily in response (as he was no longer a cadet the staff held no inherent jurisdiction over him, rather, his Knighthood and rank gave him the social high-ground).

The Marquess bowed in turn to the intoxicated man (glad the situation did not escalate for several reasons, not the least of which being he had no actual practice in swordplay whatsoever) before kneeling to address the battered girl who he honestly believed had fallen victim to the situation he attested to earlier; this event was a private celebration which nobles and instructors were invited to while tomorrow was a more inclusive event in which all cadets of the graduating and incoming session, a set amount of their family and friends, royalty and the press would attend.

He glimpsed her darker skin tone and recognized her as a descendant of either the indigenous population of the motherland (Area 1) or the slave laborers brought from overseas in what was now EU territory (he was thankful that some of their populace, including those from which such great Britannians as Lady Ernst descended, had been spared assimilation by those bastards) who had been recognized as full-blooded Britannians by the last edict of Emperor Ricardo von Britannia.

Despite the predominant stigma toward Numbers and significant amount held toward Honorary Britannians, imperial doctrine strictly forbids discrimination toward people of these ethnicities and the settlers beget by the Humiliation of Edinburgh (despite a holdout minority generally looked down upon by mainstream society) forego their differing racial lineage and consider them as Brittanian as themselves (though it was popularly held as result of his ideals of fraternity to his fellow human beings, his sister cynically thought that Emperor Ricardo enacted this decree to strengthen the homeland in its bid for imperialist expansion and prevent racially-motivated conflict within it; believing him precursor to the ideology of Saint Darwin).

"Madam, my name is Jeremiah Gottwald, please allow me to help you to your feet", he took her by one of her hands and, just as he moved to raise her up, she snapped into a seated position and let fly with her free fist which promptly collided with the Knight's face; laying him out on the floor behind himself, "Unhand me you pompous, spoilt little brat!", she staggered back to her feet, "Don't pretend to care about a worthless peasant just so you can show off by playing the hero, you disgust me! I don't need your **help**!".

Lady Monica had ran over to crouch beside him and prop his head up into her lap for support, pushing off the floor with one arm he craned his pounding head up to look at the woman who'd struck him (and, had he not been so focused on her and the punch she'd given him, to escape from his proximity to his female friend's anatomy) and noticed she cradled her head much as he did his; he'd never been hit before…and didn't want to be again.

The dark-skinned lady had spoken with such passionate spite; reflected by the expression of the parts of her face covered by the hand she'd pressed to it (through which he could make out some blood and what appeared to be a damaged, swollen closed eye) but, on gazing confusedly into her reddened open eye, he recognized the tears welling up in it which began to burst down her cheek as she spun about and sprinted out from the room.

He noticed his vision was blurring as their senior KoC blocked the doorway and seemingly began questioning the shocked staffer with champagne bottle in hand, the questions seemingly on his assailant but he could not specify them over Kruszewski's repeated worried questioning of his wellbeing; he seemed to be drifting off with only the Countess' hands on his shoulders holding him down into consciousness…he was surprised that one punch could accomplish this effect and that the woman had endured worse than he but the thought slipped through his mind; quickly becoming like a sieve.

His jaw was stiff, his cheek burned, his head ached dully as his eyes became heavy and all dropped out of his mind as the arm on which he leaned gave out and he plopped backward where his friends arms caught him around the chest to halt his fall in the end only that woman was left in his mind and, in straining to hear the conversation about her nearby he heard one exchange of particular importance; "Who was that woman!",…Monica's voice…then Nonette's, "She's a cadet in the next session, I just got her papers a little while ago, her name's Villetta Nu".


	10. Stage Tun 10: Celebration & Proposals

Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty 

_**Stage/Turn 10: Celebration & Proposals **_

**a.t.b. 2008 **

**(The night of the public celebratory ball in honour of the Colchester Institute's graduating session of cadets) **

Jeremiah Gottwald strode toward the hall in which tonight's celebration would be held, last night (after his altercation with the silvery-haired young lady occurred) the doctor whose charge he was placed under in the Institute's infirmary had explained that the ordeal his body had undergone during the duel with Sir Guilford had left him fatigued and, as a result, that punch was all it took to overcome his weakened constitution.

When they went on to predict a concussion, burst blood vessels, considerable bruising and even lasting symptoms of exhaustion could come to afflict him, and subsequently advised he not attend the night's event and remain under their observation, he vehemently refused to miss this opportunity to celebrate with his fellow Brittanians and it was only after a healthy dose of sedative from the nurse that he became silent.

The following morning he felt thoroughly rejuvenated, the most fresh and energetic he'd ever remembered being, much to the shock of his medical staff who now had no choice but to acquiesce to his desire to be immediately discharged as their thorough examination yielded no sign of the conditions they had predicted he'd be suffering, rather, he fitted a oddly perfect bill of health with no indication of yesterday's condition.

The medics made such a fuss it was around noon by the time he'd returned to the dormitory where Lady Monica had been awaiting him, anxious to verify his wellbeing, she proceeded to pass him the ludicrously expensive formal robes which Lilicia was to bring for him…he must admit he was enamoured with the flowing, grandiose attire.

He may have been enamoured with the noble dress but he soon managed to break his focus upon it to ask Monica why Lilicia had not delivered them herself (she was staying in a guest dormitory on Colchester grounds, as were many relatives of the cadets, to attend tonight's event as well after all) and she replied the Marchioness had come to her while he'd been hospitalized and stated that an emergency meeting of the House of Lords had been called that she was required to attend.

His sister had asked Kruszewski to deliver the garment in her stead (and reprimand him for worrying them by getting himself knocked unconscious, though the young woman politely opted to omit that detail) and was apparently quite characteristically disgruntled about being unable to attend the ball; complaining that the House's warmongering should not be allowed to further complicate her already hectic schedule.

As he neared the site of the event he found himself becoming slightly unnerved at the fact that Viletta Nu, his assailant, would definitely be present; the Countess had informed him (as he arduously attempted to negotiate his way into the night's robes from within his room) that Lady Nonette had tracked her down and arranged for her to be forgiven for her actions in exchange for her personally apologizing to him.

Just as he was about to trail off into pondering how to react to the young woman he realized that he had just arrived at the ball, within the hall all the lights had been draped in a luxurious fabric which gave off a dazzling glow throughout, great tables had been arranged with so much exquisite food it seemed fit for a royal banquet and an ensemble of waiters swooped to and fro seeing that the swarm of guests socialising in the centre had their thirsts constantly catered to with expensive champagne.

With a profound ruckus that drew attention from several bystanders a rambunctious woman pushed her way through and proceeded to half charge and half swagger to his side where a chilled glass of liquor was pressed awkwardly up against his face, "Hey Jeremiah! Why don'cha come 'n' hava lil' drink with me, we're buddies now right? No more stuffy teacher/student crap! Yahoo!", Enneagram slurred out.

The Marquess gave an awkward chuckle, he could practically feel the spectators eyes boring into him, but was promptly rescued as Princess Cornelia emerged from the crowd and removed their former instructor from him with a stern expression, "Hey sis'! Oh, did ya tell Jeremiah how you're gonna be the boss of them fancy guards up on toppa the city?", the rather tipsy woman fawned over her younger, royal friend.

Sir Gottwald believed he knew what his senior knight was referring to and the Princess quickly verified this, "My father has appointed me Principal Knight of the Order of St. Darwin, I'm to begin my duties starting tomorrow", he noticed Cornelia's well-earned pride as she spoke.

When Britannia was first founded the Papacy apparently embraced it as a means to revive the once great influence it possessed in the world, thus, it merged with the nation begetting the term '**Holy** Britannian Empire', however, when Charles Darwin introduced his revolutionary theories they provoked a profound empathy with the personal ideals of the 1st Emperor who embraced them as a state religion, replacing that of the Papacy's.

Afterward, Emperor Ricardo issued an imperial edict forcing the Papacy to dissolve by virtue of their apparent utilization of religion to influence matters of the state, claiming this interfered with both the absolute power of the monarchy and the more mundane administrative affairs of the Britannian government (formed by the conjunctive efforts of the House of Lords and House of Commons).

Hence, the presence of the Papacy's religion was now limited to a following among a distinct minority of the population and a clergy to conduct gatherings of these worshippers and traditionally religious ceremonies, such as weddings, meanwhile Darwin was venerated as a Saint and an order of knights was established in his honour which would be assigned to guard Pendragon's upper tier and the royal family.

He paid a silent thanks to his sister's passion for history before he responded, "Command of an Order, that's such a prestigious post, Princess Cornelia! And as your first assignment it's even more incredible, congratulations!", he had been longing to get this off his chest and could refrain no longer, "Your Highness, regarding my conduct yesterday I…I was a disgrace…I was so intent on becoming KoC I…and then you-".

Cornelia intercepted him, very aware of what the Marquis intended to say, "Enough Jeremiah, my entire life I've fought to prove the worth of my abilities. That I would never, as many would like to believe, use my royal birth for personal gain…I detest the idea! I consider you my equal, you deserve this accolade as much as I do, not to mention it would silence all those fools who slander me; you have no need to apologize".

Jeremiah expressed all the gratitude he could without providing an unwanted apology, in the process he noticed Guilford looking agitated behind the Princess, "Lord Guilford, in regards to our duel-", despite his sincere tone he was met by a voice simmering with resentment, "Don't waste your breath Gottwald, not long ago I acted out as you do but upon meeting Her Highness I found duty and discipline in my life".

He continued strongly, "If my Lady condones your actions back then; I am in no place to reprimand you, yet, though we may be comrades we are no companions", Sir Gottwald regretted the grudge Lord Gilbert obviously harboured toward him but he accepted it; had he not bested one he'd deemed to have affronted Lady Marianne he'd likely feel the same.

Lady Enneagram appeared to miraculously sober up, employing her familiar tactic of imploring Cornelia and Guilford to dance, leaving them abashed and distracted, "Hey Jeremiah, Monica showed up early 'n' asked ta talk ta Viletta. Said ta tell ya they'd be out by the balcony, go on over, eh! Both them girls are waitin' for ya, ya lucky dog! Let me know how it goes, eh!", and with a wink she pushed him of in that direction.

* * *

As he sidestepped and slipped his way through the bustling crowd a strange feeling settled uncomfortably over Jeremiah; he was about to confront Viletta Nu and though he felt he should say **something** to her he could not decide what, furthermore, why did Monica take her aside to speak privately? What could she not say to the girl in his presence? Come to think of it she had been particularly nervous around him all day...

His train of thought pulled out of the station as he exited the mass of attendees and the hall's balcony appeared before him, two figures standing out upon it, their faces revealed in the gentle veil of moonlight cast over it; Kruszewski, her voice inaudible due to his proximity to the raucous celebration, raised her hands in accusatory gestures toward Nu who had directed her narrowed stare at the floor before her feet.

"…toward a Marquis is unacceptable, not to mention from a commoner; if you ever affront Marquis Jeremiah again then I you shall not find me so lenient as Lady Enneagram! Do I make myself clear!", the commanding confidence with which Monica spoke both impressed Gottwald and had him surprised (and slightly frightened) of this passionate fire which he had not seen her exhibit in these three years they'd been close friends.

The feminine Knight bounced to face him, briefly stunned after glimpsing him suddenly appear in the corner of her eyes, gave a shaky bow which he reciprocated (though hardly felt necessary given their relationship, that said he'd grown quite used to her overt politeness) then eyed Viletta expectantly as he barely restrained from bracing for another haymaker.

The girl shuffled forward and slid her defeated, golden eyes up to meet his with a low, "Pardon me Sir, I was foolish", and in reply he could not suppress his relief at the apparently effortless resolution to their incident; his thoughts came into speech as a comfortable sigh, "You are most certainly forgiven; the two of us are as Britannian as each and those who would dispute that violate the decree's of our royal family itsel-", she scoffed at him; those gold orbs now flickering with conviction.

"Don't be deluded into thinking for a second I gave a damn about what that filthy, backwards pig from last night though about how pure my Britannian blood is. See, I've realized what really matters in this Empire; class! Could you even imagine him doing the same thing to 'Viscountess' Ernst!", she emphasised her title almost spitefully.

"Exactly! Never! But do it to the poor, little commoner and you can get away with anything! Some nobles take pity on these pathetic wretches and step in to hand out some charity in the name of 'equality', I've had my fair share and you know what it really is? …Pity! So they can all feel a little bit more 'refined'. As much as I **hate** to say it that pity is the only reason I'm standing here right now; firstly because of the scholarship to get peasants into this Institute and secondly for your stepping in to play knight in shining armour; both in the name of 'equality'!".

A triumphant smirk cracked acrossed Nu's features; from her left cheek to the rush of platinum hair obscuring the right side of her face, "Well, equality is a joke from my experience. But don't you worry about me! See, I plan on rising up through this same system; climbing the ladder of rank and status until my name is so 'noble' that your charity will be well and truly beneath me Sir Knight in Shining Ar-".

Jeremiah was paralysed in shock at what had derailed the soon-to-be cadet's tirade; Lady Monica, her expression absolutely the most livid he had ever seen of her or anyone else in his entire life, had struck her with and open-handed blow so swift he only saw it being withdrawn; one that sent Viletta toppling a couple feet onto her side before knocking her onto her back…in doing so blowing her veil of a bang back from her face.

Beneath it lay what must have been the result of her abuse at the hands of the drunken instructor the evening prior; her ebony skin twisted to a purplish-black in a large, swollen cluster around her left eye. This mound was racked with freshly reddened cuts and scrapes opened from the same force which had removed the large, white gauze bandage that had previously covered it; whose wearer scrambled to apply it once more.

"You call yourself **noble**!", the battered young woman furiously spat through the coming of racking, pain-induced sobs only to be countered with the menacing order of her attacker, "Get away from me, the Marquis and this event **now!**", with which she complied; the tears which flew from the right eye of Viletta Nu glimmering as they left the moon's rays and caught the glow of the hall where she disappeared from his sight.

His instincts compelled him to chase after her in pursuit of the reconciliation he believed never should have been required between them, yet Countess Kruszewski slipped a petite hand around his arm in a silent urge for him to stay with which he complied as she fixed him with a gaze bereft of her fury from moments ago and replaced by longing and hope.

She led him over to the balcony's edge where they both found themselves reflexively staring up at the luminescent full moon hanging above them, "Marquis Jeremiah, I apologize if I seemed barbaric and uncultured but…I simply couldn't stand that commoner insulting the nobility like that…and then she dared to question your act of selfless kindness toward her!", he saw the lady Knight's clutch upon the barricade tighten.

Concerned about these successive bouts of anger which he had never seen hint of in his placid companion before Jeremiah placed his hands upon Monica's shoulders and slowly turned her to face him, "I've never seen you like this before Monica, don't betray who you are out of concern for me, I can't empathize with what Villetta was saying; we obviously come from very different walks of life, but I think it's for that reason we shouldn't confront her further and I don't want to see you hurt like her".

He had begun to feel that their conflicting natures would prevent the two of them and Madam Nu from ever repairing their relationship and that it may be best for both of them to just leave one another be, perhaps the Countess had reached the same conclusion as she had now bent her head downward (in what seemed to him as very deep thought) and her characteristic heart-warming smile had returned to her features.

"Marquis Jeremiah", she had once again appended a title to his name, indicating this to be the young woman he'd known, "I know I've told you much of my father; Margrave of Area 10, but I fear there is one thing I've yet to mention…something that leads me to…desire your…help", her embarrassed stuttering had also returned but the way she spoke of this subject made him feel uneasy.

Kruszewski had begun to fidget on the spot and provided him no eye contact whatsoever, "Area 10 is the newest territory of the Empire and my father was in command of our forces which occupied it so the Emperor had him appointed Margrave of the Area…but while he was fighting there he became ill, it was minor at first but it has grown quite severe over such a short time…there's no known remedy for his illness".

Noticing a slight quiver in her voice as she spoke he reaffirmed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry Monica, he must be a great man to have been entrusted with a Margrave's duties", the saddened young lady subtly grasped his hand with her own, "Thankyou, I admire Father greatly, he is a truly brave nobleman…when we last met he confided in me that he has no fear of dying…but what he fears is what will happen to our family after he passes…as that rest upon me…".

He felt her fingers curl around his ever so slightly, "You see, Father has always adhered to the old customs; those that existed before the Age of Revolution, so he doesn't believe a woman should inherit her father's House…and, you see…I am Father's only child…Mother passed away when I was an infant, she was murdered in a revolt by the peasantry…so if Father was to pass now he would not bequeath the House to me…".

Her shoulders heaved and gave a short spasm as he heard her choke back tears and now he tightened his grip on her in support, "If that happens then I'll have nothing; I'd be destitute, homeless, starving! I know I'm not worthy of being my father's daughter, I'm weak…I've done fine at the Institute but Father had to beg to have me accepted…even if I could obtain a position as a knight after suffering such a disgrace I'd have been responsible for losing everything my House had ever achieved!".

Seeing his closest friend break down before his eyes awakened a strength in Jeremiah, "Please compose yourself Monica! If you were denied inheritance of your House its estate would pass into possession of the House of Lords (he knew personally stemming from his own experiences with inheriting his own House and the negotiations over the Troy's). As a noble you could petition the House to return you some of the estate, you could even resort to requesting an audience with the Emperor himself!".

Her chances of the former succeeding and even arranging the latter were slim however and the Lady must have considered this as she remained in hysterics, desperate to calm her he placed his other hand on her cheek and tilted her tear-reddened eyes up to his own, "Even if all else fails, you are welcome to stay with me as long as you wish; I care about you Monica", a gleam of a feeling he couldn't specify filled her eyes in response.

"Jeremiah…there is one solution…Father constantly reminded me it was the only way I could save our House…but…I can't do it alone…and I hadn't met anyone with whom I wanted…", her sudden disuse of his title and the dramatically increased nervousness of her tone unnerved him...and for good reason, "If I were…that is, Father would not object to my inheritance of the House if I…was…married…".

He barely had time to gasp at the logical conclusion of this point when she guided the hand he'd placed atop her shoulder over her heart, it's subsequent proximity to her breasts catching the air in his throat, "I know…it seems I'm using you to keep my House…but…in truth…Marquis…Jeremiah…I've loved you, with all my heart, for the last three years…I was too much of a coward to admit it until now…".

He was absolutely dumbfounded; love! He had no clue, in the slightest! They'd been the best of friends these past three years but…how had he not noticed something! For an instant he was furious with himself for being so clueless in regard to romance and women that he'd been oblivious to this fact after seeing her **every day** for **three years!**

And that fury was replaced by an intense depression as he realised that, beyond a close friendship, he felt…nothing more for her.

"Tonight is our last at the Institute…my last chance to ask this while we're together…I held out for as long as I could but…I can't hold back any longer! So…Jeremiah Gottwald…It would be an honour…if you would…marry me?", she fell to her knees in proposal before him, countless things raced through his mind as she awaited a response; love, friendship, her House, his future, marriage and…Lady Marianne.

"I-Monica, I…I…I can't...I think-I think, I'm in love with someone else…", he couldn't bear to look her in the eyes; shame, guilt and confusion washed over and then crushed him under themselves like the waves of the deep sea, he tightly held his eyes closed as they trembled under this pressure and he heard her rise up before him, "I see…but I'll never forget you, Jeremiah…so please don't forget about me…".

She walked at the pace of a crawl past him, still clutching his hand to her breast, and then with a self-induced quiver released him; his eyes opened, he pivoted around to see her, opened his mouth to speak…but no words came, then her voice spoke to him one last time, "Your love…she is so very blessed to have it…goodbye", and so Monica Kruszewski became the second woman to leave him on the balcony; vanishing in the crowd.

* * *

Jeremiah skulked about the edge of the hall, head down, staggering from foot to foot as the reality of what had occurred tonight sunk in; the sheltered life he had lived as a Britannian noble, the privileges it afforded and those he had come to take for granted, as well as the harsh realities faced by those of common birth had shaken the sense of understanding he thought he possessed in regard to the workings of their society.

And then the incident with Lady Monica; after which he could feel the great divide which had been thrust between himself and his closest friend, he could understand what had occurred but it still seemed absurd; he cared greatly for her and she cared even more intensely for him he now knew…and yet he knew their friendship was critically tarnished, they both felt so strongly connected to the other and yet they still…"Damn!".

He swung a fist down hard onto the bar in the hall's corner; he had not intended to stumble his way over to the lavishly decorated wooden stand but it served as good target for his frustration, "Ah, sir, is there a problem…can I offer you a drink, sir?", the veteran bartender seemed experienced with unruly yet powerful patrons and he hastily poured a glass of champagne and slid it across the table to the Marquis.

With the ethereal light filtering down into the glass it's amber glow seemed to offer the promise of assuaging this inner torment of his, of course he had attempted (unsuccessfully) to enjoy it just last night…last night; when all these dilemna's were yet to exist and he was just about to learn that his gripes then were not held against him by Princess Cornelia.

He downed the champagne in one jerk of his arm, his desperation to be rid of all these feelings exceeding his sense of discipline, he didn't taste it remotely in the speed and introversion with which he drunk, he shouted for another and attempted to swallow the second more slowly; he fancied the warm, bubbling liquid in his cold, stagnant mood…but its aftertaste of tainted self-control mixed with his vortex of misgivings.

"Another", he solemnly demanded with the intent of alleviating this repercussion and as he lifted another glass from the table he overheard a familiar voice from the lounge, "-I was under the impression that our offensives in the EU War have been rather successful, save for the unfortunate loss of the initial commanders; Sir Troy and his brother".

The unsure yet kind voice belonged to Prince Odysseus (it was a voice he had not heard in person for some 8 years, but would never forget; when last he'd heard it…it had been the orator of his parents funeral…) who stood in conversation with none other than Lady Ernst, "Correct, Your Highness, our offensive capability is greater than the EU's (thanks to Britannian technology; mainly the now mass-produced Glasgow Frame's, he thought) but you'll find stronger swords alone don't win a war.".

Odysseus seemed slightly taken aback but respectfully asked the Knight of Seven what the situation was, "After our first wave of attack the EU quickly realised they could not match our superior firepower with their own, however, our forces had only occupied a minor foothold in the Middle Eastern region before the treaty ceremony with the EU; which the OSI later saw fit to inform us was a ploy by de Bonaparte himself".

"de Bonaparte!", the First Prince queried, "Do you mean that famous EU general who died just before we began our counterattack? So it was on his orders then that Helen was…", Dorothea answered, "The very same and he is famous for good reason; even we Britannian soldiers recognize him as a military genius, but I'm afraid you're misinformed Your Highness; de Bonaparte is still very much alive".

"His 'death' had just been another strategy; he knew OSI agents had been planted among his officers and fooled them into reporting he was dying to lure our forces into making the first strike whenever he wished, the same agents have attempted to cover their blunder by confirming he still lives but their failure cannot just be redeemed; Sir Troy piloted a Knightmare and was a great leader; only Bonaparte's tactics could have slain him".

A boiling spite began to push itself up to the surface, through the night's dull misery and the champagne's bubbling ambivalence, within Jeremiah; Menelaus de Bonaparte had schemed the assassination force that his parents sacrificed themselves against and the trap that lead Sir Hector to his death…hearing that the OSI had seemingly failed to intercept either plot sympathised him with Ernst's words, "War is for the warrior".

A somewhat unassured looking Prince, in avoiding eye contact with the Viscountess, noticed his presence, "Young Master Jeremiah! My I hardly believe it!", the heir apparent took his free hand with both of his own and shook it heartily before ushering him over into the lounge where he now saw that Lady Marianne was seated in audience of their conversation, "It's been too long! Oh, excuse me, I suppose I shouldn't call you Young Master anymore; since our last unfortunate meeting you and Marchioness Lilicia have done very well, I'm certain your parents would be so proud".

He nodded, unable to even enjoy praise from a royal after all that had happened to him tonight; he just didn't feel like himself, "Well Your Highness, the armistice ceremony is to be held in just a few days; based on what happened last time we attempted non-aggression negotiations with the EU I wish to have all the time I can get to prepare for the worst", Lady Ernst hastened Odysseus with the least formality she could manage.

"Even with Bonaparte still behind them, I won't allow the EU to claim another of our royals", she bowed her head slightly to the First Prince who seemed relieved to hear it before turning her sharp focus to him, "The folly which killed Knights as great as your parents will never be repeated so long as I draw breath", he returned the salute the Round snapped him respectfully before she gave another bow (this one much deeper he observed than last), this time to the Empress.

The Prince patted him on the shoulder, assuring him that (despite his nervousness) he would try and accomplish that which his elder sister had died for and the Viscountess voiced her expectations of success in the young Knight's career before they dismissed themselves; leaving him alone in the lounge with his idol herself.

"Congratulations on you graduation Jeremiah, or should I say; Sir Gottwald?", his strained smile was met by the Knight of Six beckoning him to take a seat beside her, which he shakily did before inquiring into this supposed armistice with the EU; he knew nothing of it!

Her Majesty sighed, "Well the EU controls much more territory in the region where the war is taking place, meaning they have many more troops and supplies readily at their disposal than ourselves, therefore General de Bonaparte's new stratagem is to take advantage of these greater resources by mounting a completely defensive formation across the EU-allied continent; which even we will find nigh impenetrable".

He hid his right hand at his side from the Knight of Six on his left as it twisted into a fist and convulsed with frustration, "But My Lady! Our Knightmare's are mass-produced now! Their Knights the finest of soldiers! Why not send more and more until every shield those mongrels raise against us lies broken!", his desire to crush them laid bare.

"If only the world were so simple; the foothold in which we are based in the area lies between the vast EU bastion to the fore and the Arab states who revolted against them in the rear; those states wish to retain autonomy from the EU and are happy to have our forces situated as a buffer against them, however, they are cautious of our own intentions; if we increase troops we give them reason to launch a pre-emptive strike-".

"-then we'd be snared in the midst of a two-pronged attack…", he completed the Empress' logic gloomily, "Exactly, so while the armistice will allow the EU to attempt matching our technology and strengthen relations between their aligned nations, Britannia's Knightmares are advancing faster and faster and our resources will expound drastically as more Area's are occupied; with a more stable source of sakuradite…".

Marianne's words slipped away from him as his downtrodden stare began to drown once more into his champagne…until a blissful warmth placed itself on his cheek and Marianne's silk-smooth voice wove back into his ears, "I know you're saddened by the loss of your parents; but I also know there is a world where they, dear Helen and Paris and all those we love are together; and one day we will all be united there as one".

The delicate speech comforted him somewhat (though why would no-one acknowledge Sir Paris might still live?) yet ever since his parents death he had intended to fight the EU War after he was knighted…and now he could not; on top of everything his future had just been clouded by uncertainty…how was he to become Knight of One now?

For what felt like a moment he was without consciousness, he strained to remember why he had felt so miserable about the night and although it felt like there was indeed cause for this nothing came to mind, this ought to be a very happy occasion...it was only a matter now of what to do with himself that kept him from being overjoyed at the moment he now shared with his idolized royal lady.

"Jeremiah, were you aware the campaign for Area 11 is already being prepared? The most senior officers who will be assigned command are already being selected to organize formation and strategy, among them is the former Captain of my Royal Guard, as a result he can no longer carry out the duties of that post and Charles has been imploring me to organize a replacement as soon as possible; he's been so overprotective lately".

The Empress moved her fingers from his cheek to brush a tuft of disturbed hair back into his neat turquoise mop, "If you can't fight the EU then why not take the post? I'm certain you'll love Aries and I'm also certain my children will love you!", she gave a cheeky laugh, "Not to mention it's a fine first step to becoming Knight of One, just think; the Empress has entrusted you with her life!".

He did his best to express his enthusiasm and gratitude regarding the offer but it would be impossible to express it adequately, instead, he and his new charge shared a toast and it was here that he released he could get used to drinking champagne; so long as it was nice and warm.


	11. Stage Turn 11: Noblesse Oblige

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 11: Noblesse Oblige **_

**a.t.b. 2008 **

**(The day of His Lordship, Sir Jeremiah Gottwald, Marquis of the House Gottwald's formal induction into the Order of St. Darwin in which he will serve as Captain of the Empress' Royal Guard) **

As the wheels of his carriages pulled it into the gleaming, pristine tier atop the city of Pendragon, Sir Jeremiah Gottwald could not tear his eyes from the surroundings; it was less than a week ago he had become a Knight and today he would join the ranks of the most prestigious knightly order in the Empire, not to mention be appointed chief guardian of the Empress who also happened to be the person he most admired.

His inability to believe these incredible circumstances and his excitement at finally being in St. Darwin Street after spending his entire life in the tier immediately below it (Sir Hector Street; named for the original Knight of One not his guardian, although Sir Paris would often joke to the contrary) was abated somewhat by his nervousness.

He had returned to their estate the night after graduation to tell Lilicia about his forthcoming position only to have her react with unusual anger and confusion (he knew she was sceptic of his military career but something still seemed off…) yet still accepted the invitation to attend his induction ceremony, characteristically demanding that he pick her up from a Warrick Palace Society meeting she would have earlier that day.

That wasn't what unnerved him however, when he had contacted Lady Marianne to confirm details of the event she requested he also escort First Princess Guinevere su, Fifth Princess Karine le and Third Prince Clovis la Britannia (all of whom currently resided at the palace itself) as it was customary to have all royals present for the appointment of a Captain in the Royal Guard…that would include the Emperor himself!

The coach rolled to a halt in front of a…the name suited well; palace! He had lived in a decent manor when his parents were alive, a truly grandiose one as a ward of House Troy but this was something else entirely and as he made his way out and through the courtyard abounding with artful marble sculptures of lavishly dressed women he had no doubt the mammoth, sprawling complex ahead had been home to countless numbers of the Empire's most powerful women across history.

A pair of guards intercepted him to inquire as to whether he had arranged a meeting with the Society however, upon showing them his sealed orders from the Empress and complying with their request of his rank, quickly apologized and showed him into the reception chamber in which he was greeted by a high-pitched squeak from the stairs leading up to the above floors and the sound of downward-bounding footsteps.

A middle-aged woman draped in a flowing pink formal dress which trailed along behind her feet skipped down before him into a excited humming accompanied by a curtsey, he replied with a bow as he knew (both from his obsession with the royal family and Lilicia's anecdotes) her to be Gabrielle la Britannia; a Duchess who had been Chairwoman of the Society before becoming Emperor Charles' first wife.

As he lifted his head from the salutation he was smothered by a teary-eyed Gabrielle's embrace, "So this is darling young Jeremiah! Darling little Lilicia has told me ever so much about you! I know we've never met but we have so much in common, you and I…oh, where to begin? Oh, of course, so silly of little old me; I suppose I begin by telling you I wasn't always Gabrielle **la Britannia…**I was Young Lady Gabrielle **fo Troy **once upon a time! Isn't it wonderful! Such a blessing we finally meet!".

As the former Empress swayed him side to side in her arms thoughts rolled around in his head; he did recall Sir Hector had been close to the royal wife as he had been able to emplace Lilicia within the Society effortlessly but that they were related? "I must admit that perhaps my greatest regret in life is how little I truly knew my elder brother Priam before his passing, he was so much older and wiser, yet my wonderful nephews Hector and Paris were so close to my heart until…".

She began to weep slightly and he quickly offered her the handkerchief in his breast pocket, "Oh you're such a darling boy! I'm afraid I may never recover from all this; my heart was already broken when my first beautiful daughter was taken…then my nephews just as my poor heart began to mend, oh my dear! I didn't mean to exclude you, they must have been like fathers after your parents-oh, I shouldn't have said-I-oh dear!".

"Please don't worry yourself Milady; they were, all five of them, great Britannians; until recently I was always overcome with hate for those who stole their lives back then but I think I've started to realize I should remember their deaths for the great deeds they did for me and the Empire…", this conceptual revolution he had undergone on that wonderful graduation night seemed to instil a similar peace of mind in la Britannia as she returned the dampened cloth with a smile.

The oh-so-very motherly maiden clapped her hands twice, heralding the appearance of two maids who had until now stood dormant and motionless beside the wall like statues before moving off under the royal's orders, "I've just sent for little Lilicia, oh, and you must meet my daughters! Well I wasn't Guin's birth mother but she has been in my care for so long now she may as well be-Oh dear! If Amazonia heard me-".

"It matters not whether that woman hears you say it Milady", the particularly tall (her already above-average height amplified by her rigidly upright posture and the feather-like ornaments protruding up from the collar of her gown) young woman he recognized as 1st Princess Guinevere su Britannia tersely proclaimed as she entered the chamber.

"I may have been born of her womb but never was I raised at her breast, that woman gave up her claim to my motherhood without a second thought and I am humble it now rests with a woman of true standing", the harshness with which the Princess spoke colluded with the icy demeanour exuded by the coldly pale cosmetics applied liberally across the skin she bared from her diamond-shaped face to her…v-v-voluptuous cleavage.

An overtly childish yet haughty voice broke from below her side, "That hag's not a real lady like my mama! Guin's real strong and pretty but why do Cornelia and Euphemia get to be better Princess' than me! It's not fair; you beat that old hag lady didn't you mama! Papa loves you and me better than them right!", this time it was possessed of 5th Princess Karine le Brittania whose derogatory tone toward Princess Cornelia offended him; a child mightn't understand but to insult Milady Amazonia now…

Gabrielle made an apologetic motion to Jeremiah as she kneeled to consult Karine, "Darling, your Papa loves you all the same…but, even though he was married to Mama, he had Guinevere, Cornelia and Euphemia with Milady Amazonia before you were born dear; then you were born right after little Nunnally…right after your Papa got married to Madam Marianne…", as she gently stroked the girls auburn ponytails the Marquis noticed she referred to Marianne not as an Empress, Lady knight or even as Milady (a royal concubine) but the commoner's Madam.

The eldest royal daughter flicked her very light, almost dull, lavender shade of hair; which seemed to him could well have been intentionally coloured on her part to distance her appearance from the distinctively strong purple of her mother and younger sisters, before affixing her similarly colour-starved eyes on him, "My, the Marquis Gottwald; I've heard much of your time at Colchester from your sister-".

Speak of the devil! Lilicia strutted over to join them with a maid at her back, "But I beat Lilicia don't I mama! I'm a Princess and she's just a Marki-Marshen…", his sister corrected the 5th Princess' mispronunciation with a sense of glee suppressed so well only he could have detected it in her, "Marchioness, Your Highness, a valiant attempt", this remark frustrated the spoilt girl to no end; she recognised her trumping.

"Oh, little Lilicia! Now since my biggest boy; gentle Odysseus is away on business that leaves Schneizel…Oh no, he said he was going ahead to sort something out in his new position; such a hardworking son my second! But of course one could never forget Clovis, he grows more talented and charming by the day my beautiful baby; not that I play favourites! Oh, oh, oh! Clovis is still with his tutor, oh heavens, my little Lilicia could I trouble you to go and fetch him for us?".

He stepped over to his sister, "Of course Milady; I'm eager to finally meet the 3rd Prince in person, not to mention speak with my sister, so I'll go as well…is that agreeable, little Lilicia?", his teasing with this nickname was not recognized by the Society Chairwoman and she gave him a playful squeeze of the cheek as the two set off, yet in reprisal, the Marchioness planted the heel of her shoe painfully into his foot as soon as they climber the stairs up and out of sight of the onlookers.

* * *

"Gah! What was tha-", "What ever do you mean my lord brother?", His sister summoned all her gentle noblewoman façade as a maid bowed her head in proceeding down the staircase past them and he was forced to strain a smile despite the sharp pain in his foot, "Nothing of importance, so how has the Society been treating you my **lovely **sister?", he grimaced whilst hobbling upward on his one, non heel afflicted, foot.

Her haughty look of satisfaction waned in response, "The Society is as impeccable as always brother, the socialising meanwhile, well, you've already met the two less favourable aspects of the company I must keep in Warrick", as it dawned on him that she was referring to the two Princess' he moved /as he felt he must; in their defence.

Lilicia snapped around disgruntled and the Marquis restrained a reflex to raise his arms in self defence, "Are you prepared for me to shatter your innocent naiveté that every member of our royal family is an upstanding symbol of human perfection", he slipped out a remark that she should learn to differentiate between free speech and casual speech only to be countered by a look of particularly intense disdain for such a joke.

"Let me enlighten you fool! Guinevere su, eldest daughter of consort Amazonia; always ashamed her mother was a glorified mistress not an imperial maiden. There were arrangements for Amazonia to replace Gabrielle as Empress when the former became pregnant for the third time, of course, that child was Euphemia and the Emperor was disappointed the woman had bore him three consecutive daughters".

Jeremiah strained himself to keep pace with this diatribe; the emperor selected dignified noblewomen to become consorts; their children would become heirs to the throne no less legitimate than his wife: the Empress. Of course his marrying with a consort showed his particular favour to them (and he must admit he though the Emperor had made a fine decision most recently in taking Lady Marianne as such…) and to their descendants as his successor…so then had Milady Amazonia's aborted marriage to Emperor Charles spoiled Princess Guinevere's potential favouring to succeed her father as the consort's eldest child?

"Come now! Even a buffoon like you must be able to conclude this would insight the 'dignified' First Princess, as consumed by ambition as she is, to despise her birth mother and seek to emancipate her and negotiate adoption by the Empress her mother failed to succeed; Milady Gabrielle…at least she was at the time", he felt she had over indulged in offense to their royalty, "Lilicia, this is a Princess and a consort you are insulting! I think it best you-", he omitted her title in disapproval.

"-I do not insult Milady Gabrielle! In all my years in attendance here she has been nothing but a mentor and surrogate mother to me", her tone indicated she was genuinely hurt at his accusation, "Sorry, I understand your respect for her…her doting rather reminds me of Mother…", "I have great capacity for respect", a flicker of disappointment emanated from her, "to those I deem deserving of it, Jeremiah".

Something was definitely amiss; while she would forego his rank when the two of them were together in privacy she would never think to do so in a public venue of such high society as this unless…unless she was particularly displeased with him, "Listen, sister, why do you seem so mad with me? I've done nothing out of turn I'm aware of".

She took him by the wrist with a huff and pulled him down a narrow corridor, away from the crowd of maids and noblewoman descending into their path, "You know full well Marquis! On the night of your school's graduation! Your answer to the proposal! Explain **that **to me!", his hands began to sweat slightly, "Well, you see…I'd just been knighted and it was so sudden, so unexpected…".

"Do you, well, as your equal in both nobility and blood I believe I should know…did you…love her?", he had never known the Marchioness to be so tentative, so shy and embarrassed…but the same could be said for him as he attempted to decipher the uncertain, complicated and confusing answer, "I…even if I did this is somewhat inappropriate; she's a noble woman of such stature, I…I don't know if I'm in…love".

With a sigh, yet a smile, her voice softened as she realized the elusiveness of the concept he struggled to process, "Then I suppose nothing can be done about it…a pity though, I had such hopes for your future", he countered, puzzled, "But Lili-Marchioness, today marks the beginning of my military career; as Captain of the Empress' Guard! Surely there are few finer positions for a knight!".

"I will admit it holds clout, I simply wished you'd settled down in such a ideal marriage when you'd had the opportunity", Jeremiah was about to laugh that his service would not prevent him marrying (though he doubted such an "opportunity" would just fall into his lap as his sister seemed to believe) when a high-pitched shriek echoed up to them from the foyer from which they'd begun to climb.

"Karine le Britannia, at least Guinevere allows one to suffer her transgressions in silence", he could not help but give a brief laugh at her remark; she may have been but a child but he had gotten the impression from their short meeting that she was rather difficult to be in the presence of, "Milady Gabrielle's youngest, of course, it was within a year of her birth that Princes Nunnally was born to Empress Marianne and…".

The young Marchioness stared down at him from three steps up, he had seen this look before, awaiting an answer as if lecturing him on imperial history as she had done him so much as children, "Disappointing. You see your soon-to-be charge became a imperial consort when Prince Lelouch was conceived, come his sisters birth Marianne rose again to wife! Empress! You really ought to know these things!", how snide!

The girlish giggles and prancing up the stairs which followed reminded him of the duality in his sisters nature; that her formal strictness held a softer centre, "She never ceases to babble on and on about how her father loves her more than any of her sisters, except perhaps Guinevere as their complexes seem to have drawn them close; always acting cruelly to less noble girls at the Society in her desperate endeavour to believe her father didn't leave her mother because of her birth…I'd pity her if not for her unbearably childish behaviour she incessantly exhibits".

Their somewhat guilt-inflicting discussion of the Princess' came to an end (with his conscience's gratitude) at the highest landing of the staircase within Warrick, looking back down to the palace floor he suddenly felt a spinning sensation as he realized they'd slid up the spiralling pathway past more floors than he could count.

Lilicia cleared her throat and gave a sharp knock upon the single stately door which solely occupied the entirety of the great circular landing at which the stairs had peaked, "Oh, is it time already! Well your Highness I'd best leave you to your business, if it pleases you I would be overjoyed to resume lessons the same time next week", he could make out a middle-aged male voice from through the doorway.

The entrance to this room (which the young Knight now observed was indeed a circle; occupying all of the space within this highest floor…hence no need for another door!) swung open, his sister stepping back out of what seemed routine, to reveal the speaker who now gazed at them through his old-fashioned monocle, "Why it is good to see you again young Marchioness, it seems we always meet at this time!".

"Why thankyou for remembering me nonetheless Duke Asprius, may I introduce you to my elder brother; Marquis Jeremiah Gottwald", she formally directed the stout, weighty man to him and he stepped forward to meet his handshake, "Bartley Asprius, pleased to meet you, I was an old friend of your parents before they passed…my condolences…but it is good to finally meet you after the few years I've been acquainted with your sister here – by heavens! The time! Forgive me, I must be off!".

As he nodded and began to huff and wheeze out a waddling descent his sister mentioned she'd fill him in later before motioning for him to follow as she took a step into the room and curtsied, after giving his best bow he saw the Third Prince retiring a hefty tome to the side and indicating a finely crafted chest which a pair of butlers quickly moved to carry in his place, "Prince Clovis, it is me, Lilicia, are you prepared for today's function?", "A true artist is always prepared to capture life's beauty".

* * *

The three of them proceeded downward; Clovis la Britannia gracefully gliding down whilst stealing glances at the apparently precious cargo held within the chest the servants carefully followed them with, Lilicia clutching the lower half of her dress in a properly ladylike manner as she took each step beside the Prince and himself positioned just behind them, his fingers nervously twiddling at his back while he walked.

"Lilicia you simply must return to become my subject once again! I am privy to many beautiful young lady's here at the society but none have ever captivated me in such a manner as you!", Jeremiah had heard the Third Prince was quite an accomplished painter, particularly for a teenager, but his sister had never boasted of her involvement to him.

"How very flattering Your Highness, Lord Cecile and myself may have been the only girls at the Society who expressed interest in Duke Asprius' lessons on war and science throughout history and if it were not for you so generously obliging to share with us your private tutor then we would have been unable to benefit from his teachings; agreeing to be painted by you was the least I could assist you with in repayment".

"Come, come, that won't do at all! You are ever so modest oh angelic Lilicia! You must embrace the beauty within and exude the pride of being so wonderfully blessed at birth!", it seemed that Clovis constantly spoke as if captivated by the poetic grandeur of art (or perhaps beauty, more so) yet the Marquis had to acknowledge that calling his sister modest or lacking in pride was plainly erroneous; her obsession with observing formality and title was matched only by her ambition and drive.

In what seemed like far less time than it took to scale (though that might have been influenced by the friction of conversation at the time) the trio had returned to the foot of the spiral way where Milady Gabrielle beamed at them before gliding over, with a grace of movement akin to her son's, and sharing a tight embrace with him, "Oh dear! It's only been a few hours but I've missed you terribly! Tell mother about your lessons".

His sister tapped him on the arm for attention, "I'm going to fetch Cecile quickly; she wasn't invited but she wanted a chance to meet Prince Schneizel, he hardly ever does stay here at his Warrick residence, and I asked Milady Gabrielle on her behalf; you'd best not leave without us then", he reassured his sister he was well aware of the kind of consequences she would administer otherwise before she departed. He felt what he assumed must have been quite a forceful stomp upon his left foot ('assumed' because it was still rather numb from his sisters earlier blow) and below him he found the culprit to be Princess Karine, "Hey! Where did that peasant girl go!", he motioned up the stairs after Lilicia; the notion of denying royalty never entering his mind.

A not unpleasant, yet overpowering aroma announced Princess Guinevere's replacing her younger half-sister at his side and a sense of guilt accompanied his thought that this suited her apparent tendency to conceal her true nature, "Forgive my sister, her desire for attention manifests as a love of conflict; much like my desire for self-improvement manifests as a love of **being with **the right people".

Something about the way she spoke, the way she held herself and the look in her eye unsettled him, he convinced himself the warm sweet seeping down from his brow was resulting from his aching toes, "No need to be coy, you're hardly my first quarry", he almost reached to take the handkerchief the First Princess offered him when it registered she had withdrawn it from between the cleavage of her thin, silky dress.

"Have you forgotten everything I taught you while still your mother, Guin? I definitely remember telling you not to offer a man your body before you offer him your heart", the woman commanding this dominant boom of a voice had burst through the foyer doors; her muscular arms outstretched after the commendable feat of strength with which she had thrown open a grand door normally opened by two strapping young men.

Guinevere scowled at her with her hand about ready to tear out a rope of her dulled locks, in contrast her mother was possessed of a deep and rich purple stream of hair which seemed very short as it had been wound around numerous times into a pair of robust drills, "Amazonia? Amazonia li? My dear, oh dear, it has been ever too long, hasn't it! Clovis dear, come over here so mother can show off her darling".

Jeremiah seized the chance to escape this uncomfortable junction he was in; following Prince Clovis to Gabriella's side and greeting the second consort of their Emperor who seemed glad to turn from the mother now fussing over her sons blond fop of hair and deliver a hearty punch into his shoulder, "So you're the boy who Mari thinks is going to be the next Flash, eh? Pretty scrawny, you need some muscle to go with that height".

He rubbed his right arm and sheepishly agreed while swearing he would focus on his physical ability; he was somewhat taller than average but Knightmare piloting didn't require any particular fitness, "Ella, I hope that girls not giving you any trouble; looks to me like you've got enough to deal with around this place as it is".

She spoke to the former fo Troy woman who, after tearing herself from nuzzling up against her sons neck, responded, "No dear, Guinevere is no trouble whatsoever, I'm ever so happy to have another beautiful girl to care for, oh! What of your other little ladies Amazonia! Cornelia a Knight, oh they grow ever so fast…my Schneizel's exactly the same! And darling Euphemia is so beautiful! Won't you send her to me!".

The sweet, delicate tone of Milady Gabriella's voice met the stern, confident tone of Milady Amazonia's equally; implying to him they'd shared quite the history despite being such contrasting characters, "Come on Ella, I didn't let Cornelia out of my sight without making sure she'd have an attendant at all times", he caught a quick meeting of eyes between Amazonia and Guinevere; it made him feel like jumping aside.

"Yes I suppose the Society is quite full nowadays, but there is always a place for her here, oh! Yes, yes, Cornelia and Lord Guilford; I had the pleasure of seeing them together but days ago and, oh, I expect wedding bells in the coming years Ella! Oh, how I wish one of mine would marry! How Clovis manages to avoid snaring the hearts of every young dame who lays eyes on him startles me!", she responded; oblivious to the tension bristling right by as she heaped favour on her favourite.

The Marquis half-heard Gabriella gush that Amazonia had selected Sir Gilbert as Princess Cornelia's attendant out of some relation to an old flame she had shared with the boys father before Emperor Charles coveted her as he noticed Lilicia, now accompanied by the girl Cecile, looking anxiously past him from the foot of the stairs.

Karine had moved behind her favoured sibling and bore her teeth at the verge of a tantrum, Guinevere herself watched her mother now with more curiosity and a twist of pleasure than the anger she held before, the mighty consort looked on as if to meet an old friend yet the slightest tinge of some inexplicable emotion sat at the edge of her smile as her genteel counterpart finally realized that Lady Marianne had come among them.

The guards who had previously allowed him inside had been standing just beyond the door nervously debating whether to interrupt the conversation inside the deliver the official address expected of a royal's arrival which had not been given on behalf on Milady Amazonia's abrupt entrance but were now snapped from their squabble to herald, "All hail Empress Marianne! All hail Empress Marianne!".

He bowed (with a reluctant twinge from his foot), as was the custom for all to an Empress, from this angle his hidden eyes watched Amazonia pay one last aside glance to her daughter before striding over to the Knight of Six where the two embraced…they held it for slightly longer than he felt even old friends would…then, with a wipe of her face with one hand and a pat on Marianne's shoulder, Amazonia departed as sudden as she came.

As his field of vision returned to normal he caught, at the corner of each eye, the gazes of countless Society women peering through barely ajar doors and watching what they must have known to be a situation as uncomfortable as the young Knight felt it was, that is, until a pitter-patter of footsteps began to sound its way into the stagnancy of the foyer.

"Nunnally, wait! Slow down! If you go too fast you'll trip and fall; do you want to get bruises all over your legs again! Why won't you just do what I tell you Nunnally!", a shout followed after the little brunette girl who raced healthily over to Lady Marianne's legs and hugged them with a girlish chuckle as the Empress leant down to lift up her daughter.

A exhausted pant accompanied a slender, dark haired young boy (whose miniature stately robes did not seem to be helping in his losing battle to catch up to his younger sister) struggle his way inside where he rested his weight with one hand against his mothers legs, "Sorry…Mother…she's…too fast, I couldn't…I couldn't…*huff*", he wheezed amidst his tiny, exhausted breaths.

Jeremiah knew the two children the instant he saw them, they were the son and daughter of the woman he'd idolized since he was not much older than they were; Fourth Prince Lelouch and Fifth Princess Nunnally vi Britannia!

The uneasy atmosphere broken by their entrance yielded a silent yet collective sigh from all the onlookers as Milady Gabriella drifted over to stroke Princess Nunnally's pigtails (much to her delight) and tug at Prince Lelouch's cheeks (much to his protest), Jeremiah himself exchanged a look of relief with Prince Clovis, who seemed genuinely worried that his mother had become so quiet, and led the motion to accompany the Empress out to the carriage which waited to lead them to his ceremony.

One morning of meeting royalty had nearly cost him an arm and a leg (literally) but the rest of the day still lay ahead; yet as he saw Lady Marianne ahead of him; smiling hand-in-hand with her children, his reflection on the dual nature of her apparent relationships with her fellow royal wives was overshadowed by his wish to be as happy and fulfilled as she seemed one day.


	12. Stage Turn 12: Stranger in Paradise

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 12: Stranger in Paradise **_

**a.t.b. 2008 **

**(Moments prior to Lady Marianne's carriage arriving at her residence, Aries Villa, on St. Darwin Street) **

As Jeremiah Gottwald reflected upon how many uncomfortable rides in noble carriages he had experienced in his life (mentally that is, the cushy grandeur within them made it quite physically comfortable) he allowed an absurd but genuine wish that Lady Marianne would have picked them up in a Knightmare Frame to slip into his brain.

Across from him Princess Guinevere sat with lips tightly pursed in aversion of the scowl he had seen her flash back at Warrick Palace, the young knight could scarcely imagine the sultry sounds he had heard but minutes before coming from them now.

He could feel the livid eyes of the lady's younger half-sister, Princess Karine, dart from target to target within the car, burning a hole into him when he became their resting place.

He made as casual an aversion of his vision from the two young women as he could perform (he hated to admit but it seemed their mutual animosity toward the Empress would leap upon any scapegoat that presented itself…one does not simply berate the most powerful woman in the Empire!) only to make awkward eye contact with Cecile Croomy across from him.

He could tell she was somewhat frozen in the face of all these luminary passengers she now rode with (as he was quite the same) from her stiff expression and how she leaned toward Lilicia, her neighbour across from him, as if wishing she could just melt into her and out of these imposing royal presences.

They snuck a smile at each other, both aware they shared each others unease, which did not go unnoticed by Karine, "Why does she get to come! Huh, Guin!", the elder sister softened her gaze for a moment on her sibling only to sharpen it as she responded, "I know not, perhaps the _Empress_ could inform you".

Before this answer could his own neighbour, Prince Clovis, looked to his sisters at their left, "Nevermind Karine, would you like me to paint your portrait once we arrive at the Vila", "Really!", he quietly thanked the Prince for distracting Karine from haranguing the worried, purple-haired girl.

"But…you should paint Guin instead, she's a lot prettier than me", as the little Princess looked at her role model admiringly the discontent Guinevere lovingly moved her face over to her chest where the Fourth Princess nuzzled contently…there was always more to people, he profoundly thought.

Though it didn't seem to affect his sister in the same ways she took a break from acting as a model of refinement for the girl beside her to roll her eyes at the sisterly spectacle unfolding before her; since when had she been such a royal skeptic?

"Mother, your hair's really pretty; can I play with it when we get home?", Guinevere's sense of ire seemed to return at Princess Nunally's innocent request and she once more trained her face at the Empress, who placated her daughter with one hand before addressing this renewed focus, "Guinevere dear, you should try not to frown so much; life is too short for that, besides, I'm sure far fewer young men would be attracted by such an intimidating look", she smiled.

He turned his head from Lady Marianne (now gently chuckling at her daughters attempt to dress the hair of her brother; much to the young prince's resistance) at his right to the opposite couch where the First Princess's narrowed glare darted from his idol to him and then back…could the Knight of Six have spoken with the implication of the princess' earlier exchange with him…but he had no intention to-

"Enough Nunnally, now hold onto my hand so you don't get hurt on the way out", Prince Lelouch had alerted Jeremiah to the fact that the carriage had ceased moving, he defaulted to his manners: allowing the ladies and those higher in rank than himself to disembark but the royal wife waved him on, "This is you day, my young guardian".

As he obliged her in clambering out the door the glow of the bright sunlight revealed the two rows of knights adorned in the same Royal Guard regalia as he, one on each side, who twirled the swords at their sides before raising them up to met their fellows; creating an arch reserved for the walking under of only royalty and the most celebrated Britannians.

"Yay! Euphie's here! Euphie's here!", from behind him the Fifth Princess took off as fast as her little legs could carry her toward the villa lying at the other end of their glamorous reception, "Nunnally not again, I can't-", the small voice was abruptly stopped as the Fourth Prince collided with his leg in a hasty attempt to intercept his sister, "Stand aside! I'm Lelouch of Britannia!", he rebuked without even looking at the Marquis.

As the dark-haired boy struggled after the speedy girl their mother stepped beside him, "This procession is in your honour you realise?", he turned, stunned, "You may technically be captain of my guard already but I thought your welcome needed a taste of flair", he bowed his head repeatedly in wordless gratitude as the remaining noble passengers from the carriage began to move on ahead of them.

"It's not paradise, not yet at least, but it is my home, my children's home and, now, it's yours as well", and, with her hand on his back raising him up and setting him on his way toward the entrance, he held his head high below the gleam of the steel; the steel proudly displayed like his pride.

* * *

Upon passing through the procession and preparing to accompany the Empress out into the garden at the rear of the villa, Jeremiah realised with a slight regret that he was not going to meet with Princess Cornelia today; he had heard that the Captain of the Emperor's or Empresses's Royal Guard regularly met with the Principal Knight of the Order of St. Darwin to coordinate security measures on the numerous events attended by their charges, however, he knew he'd see her again soon enough.

As they approached a set of double doors leaking a great shaft of light, indicating the gardens presence behind them, he had asked his Empress what her plans for the remainder of the day were; she responded by informing him that she regularly hosted days of relaxation for the royal sons and daughters at the villa and today all of Milady Gabriella and Amazonia's children (bar the occupied Odysseus and Cornelia) would be in attendance.

He took the gentlemanly action of clearing the doorway for the lady, earning him a playful curtsey in response, before first laying eyes on the garden of Aries Villa. Beautiful did not even approximate his opinion. He hated to say it but he disagreed with Lady Marianne; this must surely be paradise!

Luscious green knolls of grass, countless bushels of the most vibrantly colourful and exotic flowers he'd ever seen, pools of water whose sun-gleamed surface made them resemble giant sapphires embedded in the earth and finely chiselled marble statues of luminary Britannians; among whom he recognised the 'Successor to Edinburgh': First Emperor Ricardo, 'Matriarch of the Empire': First Empress Eve and the 'Champion of the Plebian'; Sir Colchester.

The Knight of Six waved her hand before his eyes to reclaim him from his captivation with the new surroundings and let him know she was going to meet with "Charles" in the monument-like structure that sat at the back of the garden, despite his heart skipping several beats upon learning the Emperor was mere feet from him he managed to bid his best wishes to her husband, exhaling heavily once he was left alone. Could he really come to handle constantly being around people of this stature!

He spotted a miniature rotunda structure at the foot of one of the knolls which rose to sit just below the sun from the angle he stood at, perhaps it was for this reason that Prince Clovis had chosen this place to begin his painting…he knew little of art (identities of sculpted historical figures aside) but figured it must make for fitting 'inspiration' he believed they called it.

A flutter of footsteps upon grass approached and, in his new role as royal guard, his hand flew immediately to the hilt of his sabre; gripping it tightly and wrenching the base of its tempered length from the scabbard, as he'd been taught in lieu of his graduation ceremony, in preparation to draw it and fell in one stroke any who dared intrude on this idyllic scene.

A pinkish blur darted between the legs of his impromptu draw stance, bypassing his lax reflexes, he swivelled round to see that it had been the dress of Nunnally who raised a small, glinting object gleefully above her head as she pelted down toward the rotunda.

He could hardly conceive of his misconceived provocation before a wave of pink was flashing through his vision, this time it was the hair of a slightly older girl who he recognized from behind due to the many things he'd heard of her from the girls older sister; Euphemia li Britannia.

As soon as he recognized the Third Princess he also recognized that a certain disapprovingly protective prince was not in pursuit of Princess Nunnally as she was. Finding this odd due to the manner in which he always seemed to be trailing behind her and the shouting occurring between them he decided to give chase to ensure all was well…after all this was his duty now. Yes, it was time he began his service!

Initially he broke into a light jog to catch up to the princesses only to soon realise that (whether they were unnaturally fast for their small, undeveloped bodies or his was not as athletically attuned as he would have like…regrettably it was more likely the latter) he could not match pace with them at such speed!

Unwilling to be outrun by the pair he threw his feet down, intending to gallop down the slope to meet them at its even-out, only to meet the strap intended to sit over his shoulder in securing his scabbard at the waist of its owner, in what seemed an instant he realised that it had fell loose down his arm when he had unsheathed his blade a moment ago.

The weight now pressing down on it pulled the scabbard along in a dive to the ground, the strap which had passed below his waist mid-stride now drew him into a face-first fall worsened only when he saw that he had forget to return his swords base to its sheath and it now bore the threat of a potentially sharp landing if he was unlucky…considering his current predicament that was a definite possibility.

In a bit of precautionary quick-thinking Jeremiah threw the blade and its strap to the side just as he hit the grass, which helpfully absorbed most of the impact of his awkward tumble, and began rolling down the decline; coming to a thankfully short stop at the bottom of the sun pedestal hill.

Though slightly disoriented he could not feel any actual injury and looked up from where his back rested on the turf to see both of the girls he'd chased after standing over him worriedly, "That was a funny fall, are you alright mister?", his eyes re-focused on Euphemia, "Euphie! I'm still marrying Lelouch!", and, with the protests of Cornelia's little sister in tow, an unconcerned Princess Nunnally toddled off.

Standing up to brush off the odd pieces of grass besmirching his uniform, the Marquis optimistically surmised that he had indeed gotten ahead of the princesses…if not exactly how he had planned to…of course he needed some optimism as he saw that the rotunda was right nearby and Guinevere, Karine and Clovis all gazed at him in a mix of shock, amusement and ridicule at his recent stunt.

As the playful game of chase between the runaway princesses led them to dart around in circles within the rotunda he was grateful the focus had been shifted away from him, "You two're so immature! Clovis is trying to paint me! So go away or that mean man over there will give both of you a spanking", the two girls turned to face him after Karine's ultimatum and burst out in laughter.

He was unsure whether to be pleased that they did not suspect he would harm them as such or embarrassed that the circumstance of their meeting may have rendered him an eternal joke to the two of them.

Clovis seemed to feel some sympathy for him though and covertly flipped the page of the sketchbook resting on his lap, between the stool on which he sat and the stand propping up his painting canvas, and showed him a quill-drawn portrait of a young man with a sword standing atop a hill…was it, him? How had he drawn that so quickly? The respect he felt for the Third Prince shot up at the sight of such amazing talent.

As one of the prince's hands moved to commit his brush to the painting of Princess Karine the other extended sketch to Jeremiah who, after some hesitation, stepped forward to tuck it securely into his breast pocket with a quick bow of his head. As Karine posed for her elder brother Guinevere stood up and began to move off but before he could see to where Euphemia and Nunnally grabbed him by the hands and pulled him away.

With laughter full of childhood cheek they pulled him on, one at each hand, across a glade of dashing green to what was almost the opposite end of the estate where another marble rotunda was erected atop the fertile soil; this one housing Second Prince Schneizel el Britannia and his younger brother Prince Lelouch engaged in a game of chess.

Once they neared the site the two girls broke off from their newfound companion and scurry over to where Lelouch sat, right hand clutching the side of his face in mixed deep thought and biting frustration and the other gently but persistently tapping away at the underside of the table in a manner that seemed to indicate he was quite aware of this tic and was taking care not to expose the anxiety it carried to his opponent.

As Euphemia and his sister began to look on at the chessboard expectantly from the intensely focused Lelouch's side, his elder brother calmly rested his joined hands against the table with his head turned to the side in easy conversation with two people clad in Colchester cadet uniforms…wait a minute, Jeremiah had seen these two before; they were the presenters from their session's excursion to the ASEEC facility!

"Well Prince, if you intend to establish a unit of such state-of-the-art scientific genius then I am certain you can look no further than myself", the Indian woman, Rakshata (whose name he recalled from its peculiarity in comparison to Britannian names, which themselves were quite diverse as a result of the several European cultures which had accompanied the settlers of their homeland in the wake of the Humiliation of Edinburgh) cooed pride fully in her distinctive mewling voice.

Prince Schneizel responded with a smile and an aside glance at the board before him on which his young opponent had just moved a piece , much to his female spectators excitement, "You would indeed be a great boon to my prospective organisation Madam Chawla; even a prodigy of science such as yourself may be unaware of it due to its low-profile nature but the Toromo Agency in Area 13 is perhaps the most forward thinking institution in all of the Empire".

"My point being", without his eyes deviating even an inch from the Indian transfer cadet he pinched the top of one of his white bishop pieces and swept it diagonally, removing one of his brothers black knight pieces from the game, "the diversity of options afforded by pieces spread across the board can prove superior to the solidarity of those who hold fast to either side, you are such a piece my lady".

The self-reprimanding expression of anger on the young prince's face was met with by curiosity from Princess Euphemia, "I know losing a piece is bad but is one less horsey really **that** bad for Lelouch?", Princess Nunnally replied to her questioner with surprise, "You didn't know, Euphy? I'm real bad at this game but even I know those black horsey ones are Lelouch's favourites, told you I love him more!".

As the two girls were taken by their jest argument the Second Prince addressed his other guest, "Earl Asplund, please forgive me for calling you here so soon after your fathers loss, I hope being addressed by the title left to you by him is not a source of discomfort", the bespectacled young man with an apparently recent social acclimation showed no sign of unease in his reply, "No need to apologize. I have, shall we say, a **unique** way of relating to human beings, oh! **Your Higness**, right, almost forget about that part!".

The Marquis was somewhat taken aback by the silver haired cadet; he supposed the man spoke more freely than he should do in his current situation but there was an erratic, unpredictable nature to way he said things (in the presence of royalty not withstanding!) that had the royal guard feeling uneasy and, frankly, puzzled by him.

"Well, I suppose it is good to hear that my rook remains as strong in his resolve to lend me his aid-", he moved a white rook, again unseeing, from its current square in capturing one of his brothers pawns, "-as he was on that day I met with all the research and development cadets of Colchester, I cannot imagine having the opportunity to make this endeavour if Professor Einstein had not been alive; truly he has proven to the people of our nation, myself included, the great benefit science holds for humankind; you were close to him also, were you not?".

Jeremiah learned of Albert Einstein from his position as Director of the Rosenberg Institute which Lilicia taught him was a testament to the man's intelligence; as the military's R&D division (where most of the respective Colchester cadets became employed) it was standard that one must be certified by the military to hold a position there but Mister Albert apparently resented the military, yet, he was considered so valuable they funded his work and allowed him autonomy over it in exchange for his direction; all without his ever having to certify under them.

As Prince Schneizel lamented and Sir Gottwald contemplated, Lelouch eagerly capitalized on the freshly moved rook by felling it with a strike from a black pawn, much to the renewed interest of his two admirers, as the new Earl answered, "He did visit the Institute fairly often and I must admit even I am appreciative of that, but I can't claim him to have been a personal tutor to me in my youth like a certain someone".

Schneizel closed his eyes in a brief, bemused chuckle which caused Jeremiah to realise he was the one the exuberant Earl referred to as he made (what seemed to the Marquis, at least) an inconsequential move of his queen, "Indeed, you have me there, it was his teaching that prompted me to view science as a great means with which to reshape our world for the better; its to that end I've taken such an interest in Toromo and that I am to direct Rosenburg in his place, though I could never replace him".

"And it is because of the great occupation facing me in taking up his mantle-", he paused as the bishop he had recently used to eliminate his opponents knight was slain by its fellow dark steed, much to Lelouch's devious grin, to respond by moving one of his surrounded pawns a square forward; arriving at the opposite end of the board and being removed in favour of a second white queen which had been biding its time behind the Second Prince's joined hands, "-that I seek new pieces to solidify my plans for ASEEC", it would seem this had been his plan all along.

For the first time since Jeremiah had begun watching their game (and for the entirety of it he felt was distinctly possible) Schneizel turned his gaze to his foe whose face, filled with aspiration of victory but a moment ago, was now branded with a mask of shock.

"Had we continued to play normally I likely would have prevailed, and yet, I exposed my bishop and rook to you to determine whether you would seize on the opportunity to fell them; doing so jeopardized my endgame, however, in allowing yourself to be captivated so you allowed this pawn to escape a potential encirclement and attain the capacity of a queen. As a result of the restrictions imposed on the black king's movement by the positioning of your own pieces and both the poised strike of my original queen that I prepared in the midst's of your captivation as well as options afforded to my newly crowned one…results in checkmate".

Jeremiah's brain worked desperately to search for any means of escape for his young lords piece in hopes of winning the Fourth Prince's favour…but he knew it to be a losing effort before he even began; even from his (very) limited knowledge of chess it was clear that Schneizel had controlled this game, to the point he deliberately risked his coup de grace on a passing whim; a test of character over victory.

From the piece kept at the ready behind his hands he likely led Lelouch to this junction purely to indulge this interest, the Marquis assumed they must have played much together for him to so exactly pre-empt his opponent's strategy and it seemed the frustration which overcame the royal boy as he stormed off in a huff with his sisters voicing words of comfort was an oft felt one.

The almost guilty laugh yielded by the Second Prince at this sight was succeeded almost immediately by a clearing of the throat from behind both him and the two aspiring scientists, the two stepped apart to reveal the source as Lilicia; with a nervous Cecile tucked behind her, head poking out to the side.

"Excuse me Your Highness, I am Marchioness Lilicia Gottwald; Lord of the House Gottwald, and I have a guest here who is most eager to meet with you", Lilicia swept before and away from the prince with a deep curtsey each time, her second leaving the petite Cecile standing dumbstruck before the royal.

"Ah, so you would be Lord Cecile Croomy, are your parents well? I have had the pleasure of several meeting with them of late as I assume my new duties. Allow me but a moment and I shall lend you my ear for as long as you please", the girl nodded her head to hide her pink blush at the gentlemanly words, "M-Mother and Father are in good health, tha-thankyou very much, Your Highness", she shyly returned.

The Prince turned to his two guests with a smile, "Then I think the decisive moment has arrived; I can't continue dallying when such a polite young lady awaits me. Lloyd Asplund, Rakshata Chawla, as you may well know I've requested your presences to determine who will be heading up the new division of ASEEC I seek to oversee in my capacity as Director of Rosenburg".

The eyes of the curvaceous young woman lit up with one of her characteristic coo's and her male compatriot shrugged his shoulder in an expression of prediction, "A unit who will receive priority funding, acces to resources and autonomy outside of all but royal jurisdiction; Camelot. And it is my wish that the both of you co-operate in leading this division".

Chawla's face change to a mask of crooked disgust, "Together! What a farce! You would compare my genius abilities to the Lord, no, I suppose that is **Earl** of Pudding now! Enjoy your new position, my lord-", her voice dripping in venomous sarcasm now, "-for I will allow myself to share equal standing with you so long as I live!", and with a mighty huff she swept around and stormed off from the garden like a blazing gale.

"Well, what's her problem", a slightly stumped yet amused Earl Asplund quipped after her and the Marquis did his best to suppress a laugh at the awkward hilarity of the moment as a glint of light caught the corner of his eye in the now drooping afternoon sun; it was Guinevere, standing on the knoll that had made jest of him earlier, with a bare blade, his, in hand.

* * *

With a nervous jog he made his way over to the First Princess wherehe folded his body over in a apologetic bow, "Forgive me my Lady, I cannot excuse having forgotten to retrieve-", the broad side of the sword was shoved stiffly against his shoulder eliciting a noticeable jump from the young guard, " Were it not for me someone may well have harmed themselves on this weapon, someone powerful whose injury would quickly see you meeting the harshest of fates".

"You should be eternally grateful that my vigilance spared you such repercussions.", she continued as he humbly nodded along while returning his untamed sabre to its scabbard, "That said I am interested only in liaising with men of actual influence. Hmph, it figures you would be drawn to my half-brother; my sources inform me he has a tendency to seduce more than scientists, nobles and politicians to his side…".

In his focus on retaining some manner of professionalism he did not truly comprehend the Princess' meaning as she seemed to be implying something scandalous…but he could see no such trait in the Schneizel.

"Your **precious** sister is like to have gossiped to you as such but all is not well in great house Britannia, good nobleman.", the belittling tone she now revelled in earned her the Marquis silent scorn and he regretted it. "The folly of that pathetic Amazonia woman for instance, and now the Second Prince's seizing of the Seat of Honour in the both the Houses that do the menial tasks my great father is above. Acting as the duty-bound younger brother when Odysseus left to worm his way into the Commons and making me-", she paused in frustration, "-needless to say he took the same seat in the Lords beforehand".

Ah! Now this was a subject he understood! The Seat of Honour was a seat (one in each House of the government) reserved for a member of the royal family to oversee the actions of the politicians and nobles therein, "Not that it troubles me; it was far more important I join the illustrious household of milady Gabriella; the very picture of Empress, then watch over a gaggle of fools who cling to the scraps of power my father throws them. Besides, everyone on the street knows what's in Schneizel el Britannia's mind-".

At that moment Jeremiah noticed two figures climbing the knoll from the growing shade cast by the coming dusk; Lady Marianne and, at her side, a towering man with a mane of stoutly arranged white hair…this…it was Charles zi Britannia!...The Emperor! The Marquis fell as swiftly as possibly into a deep kneeling stance and Guinevere's tirade faltered before her father.

Jeremiah had never felt a more intimidating aura in his life, even among all the powerful luminaries he'd had the privilege of meeting in his soon to be nineteen years, and it seemed as if he would never be able to stand up straight again under the tremendous weight that was the Emperor's gaze bearing down upon him, "So this boy is your guardian Marianne. Reconsider. His weakness could be the death of you.".

The insurmountable strength behind these words which so succinctly dictated his fate unnerved him to no end but this anxiety was swiftly assuaged by the Empress, "Don't fear for my safety Charles. Jeremiah is a shining example of the kind of young man we aim to better this world for. Besides, he's rather handsome don't you think?".

These strong yet also jovial words dispersed any tension in the situation and pulled the intimidating weight off of the royal guard, if not plastering his downturned face with a blush of brightest red in turn, "Then do as you will. Guinevere, you and all the others leave here immediately", powerfully terse commands struck deep at the prideful First Princess who quickly assented and scurried off to organize the others departure.

"You really shouldn't be so harsh on the girl Charles. You know what troubles her, don't you", Jeremiah chanced peering up an inch to see the Emperor respond, "Such matters are trivial. We've truly relevant ones to deal with. Remember that", but he was also able to catch a smiling Marianne face as she replied, "I love you too, dear".

Emperor Charles gave what seemed an uncharacteristically amused sigh before marching out of the Villa, he accompanied Lady Marianne (now with Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally nipping at her heels) in seeing out the guests for that day; he waved farewell to Lilicia, Cecile, Clovis and (unfortunately he must admit; to a lesser extent) Guinevere and Karine as they boarded the coach that would return them to the Society.

Schneizel and Euphemia then boarded another carriage in which their royal father waited (the girl seemed disappointed that her day of play with her sister had come to an end) to whisk them of to places of grandeur which would have, until today, been beyond his imagination as he honestly believed one could not see more beauty then he had at Aries Villa today.

As the four withdrew into the Villa in the face of the newborn night seeping over the mighty tiered city of Pendragon he heard Lelouch beseech his mother for something to eat and she replied by suggesting a piece of fruit from the great, stalwart trees he had noticed earlier on. With his mother beckoning him to be quick in the face of the darkness settling in outside he felt a tug on his hair from behind which, on turning round, he found Nunnally to be the culprit behind, "Sorry funny man but your hair is real long for a boy, almost as long as Clovis'…so~ can I play with it mister, please?", he had never realized but his hair had grown relatively long, down to just past his shoulders in fact, likely a result of him being to preoccupied lately to get it cut for him.

With Marianne looking on serenely he consented and the princess began to pull his tresses back and tie them into what he soon realised was a ponytail, this distressed him slightly (he had something of a belief it was a female hairstyle, you see) and Lady Marianne seemed to recognize his unease once more by offering him some encouragement, "Good choice Nunnally, they say a ponytail is a symbol of the warrior, a symbol of loyalty".

He couldn't help but smile at this idyllic life that seemed to be beginning for the three of them, that is four he was reminded as a annoyed young Lelouch came bolting back into the room, grabbing the hem of his others elegant dress with some round object in hand, "Mother! It's not fair; there's only oranges on that tree! I hate oranges!".


	13. Stage Turn 13: Antics at Aries

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 13: Various Antics at Aries Villa**_

**a.t.b. 2009**

As the flash of sunlight magnified upon the metallic length of his sword caused him to bring a hand to his momentarily blinded eyes, Jeremiah Gottwald cursed the sabre he had been swinging through the air awkwardly seconds ago; he understood its symbolism of the honour and might of a soldier and yet why give a man such a weapon to carry by his side every day of his duties and not instruct him on its proper wielding! While he blinked away the remnants of blurred light from his eyes he brushed away a wave of sweat from his forehead with the hand he had just held to his eyes and figured that, in hindsight, a balmy summer's afternoon was perhaps not the ideal climate in which to intently practice swordplay. However he found some solace in the fact that, while he had both lived and served the Aries estate for nigh a year now bar the odd rest period permitted to him by Lady Marianne in which he had spent a few nights an the fo Troy manor (despite his sister having lived there since the death of Sir Hector and it now being property of House Gottwald he found it too odd to refer to as 'their' manor), he rarely allowed himself anytime to leave guard duties of the Villa to his subordinates alone and even now he was devoting himself to better protecting his Empress and her children. The duty bound knight rose his blade up before him for the umpteenth time that day and repeated aloud the advice he'd managed to elicit from Princess Cornelia on swordsmanship without confessing his utter lack of skill in it, "Know your weapon as you do yourself. Though there may be many blades and wielders of them only you can truly understand your own", these words had become his mantra as the Second Princess had apparently been trained by Lady Marianne herself since she was a child. Yet no matter how he chanted this in his deepest state of concentration the sword in his hand felt exactly the same as before and himself no closer to discovering how to use it competently, his patience had been tested; he'd sacrificed a day when he should have been ready to leap to the defence of his Lady in an instant to talk to a piece of metal and it had brought him nothing, "Damnation!", he swore as he hefted the sabre up and over his head, spinning around with the intent to drive it as hard as he could into the ground below. As he spun around 180 degrees he felt a sudden jerk which froze him in place, his sword arm crashed to a halt as if it had collided with some indomitably immovable obstacle (like a castle wall or the side of a Knightmare) and then, as sudden as it had been stopped, his weapon was given way as its tip was guided gently to the green earth to which he had moved to drive it into, "Now, now, Jeremiah. You'll never move forward if you allow yourself to be held back by emotions", Marianne's advised as gently as she lowered he sword. "Your Majesty! I-forgive me! I was only attempting to-", the Empress raised the fingers of her free hands to his lips to quiet him and drew her face in closer to his own, "I understand. I myself was fortunate enough to be quite proficient in defending myself by your age; which proved very useful as there are those who do not embrace my place in this nation. Left on my own I would have been powerless to bring about true change, however, I had an angel watching over me". The eyes of Her Majesty shifted to one side, looking past him to the same great obelisk at the garden's rear to which she would regularly pay visits; occasionally to meet with His Majesty when he came from the palace (Jeremiah was still not able to become comfortable in the man's presence; it was he that would always receive him to the Villa and earn a chillingly disapproving gaze in response) and other times...well frankly he had no idea! He could remember accompanying her to its entrance countless times and yet she would always politely dismiss him before entering; he had worried for her safety but trusted her wise judgment and ability to defend herself if need be...in thinking on it he questioned how useful he would truly be if her safety were ever threatened in his presence; true he was a skilled Knightmare pilot and he would not fear battle from the cockpit of the machines but on foot, with naught but a sword to arm himself with! He knew he could be of little aid as such. It was true that all the royal guards serving under him at the Villa carried rifles and that he too had competent firearm training yet he could not bring himself to be satisfied with that; though he would perform his patrols with one hand clutching the butt of the rifle resting against his shoulder, ever ready to cock it to his shoulder and take aim against those who would do harm to those he lov-that is, served! As a knight he carried a sword by his waist and as a knight he should be taking it up in defence of the honour of both himself and those he lov-that is, served! He felt a soft, warm glove-cloaked hand being place on his left cheek as Marianne slowly turned his head to the right, looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction from the Villa's exit out into the garden, to set his eyes upon the same target as her own; it was a young lady who he could not see very well from the green distance that stretched out between them yet he could clearly make out that she was standing on a balcony towards the very top of the aforementioned monolith his Lady had made her way from. He could vaguely make out that she wore similarly coloured horse riding garb to that his Lady wore now and he figured that she must be roughly the same age as he, and yet, the aspect which stood out as clear as the blazing sunlight which gave it a golden, ethereal aura was her long, green waterfall of hair that cascaded down over her upper body; bathing her in that startling sunlit glow...this vivid imagery recalled the Empress' words to his mind; 'I had an angel watching over me', she had said. In the next instant 'The Flash' had twirled around before him, her eyes capturing his once more and blocking out the mystery figure on the balcony with their own radiant glow, "Unfortunately, heaven is not quite ready for the world just yet, be patient my boy". He blinked his eyes. The orange gleam from the falling horizon must have irritated them, he figured. Lady Marianne stood a few paces directly before him as regained focus, "Draw your sword Jeremiah, your first lesson begins now", as if my some telepathic means the Empress had sensed his motivations and to be offered instruction from a swordswoman of her mastery! "Of course! I cannot thank you enough Your Majesty!". She gave a smile and wave of the hand as if dismissing his overzealous gratitude as she had grown very accustomed since she had first met Jeremiah at the Institute, she was quite fond of this attitude though; it indicated to her his sheer commitment in life, and she had further warmed to him during his time at the Villa…but had he? Her intuition questioned this much of late. "Did you see what I did earlier?", the young guard had no clue to what his charge was referring to at first, then (despite the obstacle of a slightly hazy recent memory) he recalled the manner in which she parried his blade earlier; the speed of her stroke, like a flash of lightning, and the precision with which she aimed it left a astounded impression upon the aspiring swordsman. "Did you mean your parry, my Lady? It was almost too swift for my eyes to even see! Please tell me how you were able to land the tip where my blade met its hilt at such speed!", he had hoped to impress her by his fluke observation of the method with which her counter had derailed the momentum of his frustrated strike, though he glimpsed a relief in her that seemed out of place, was he missing something? Her hair? No. Riding garb? No. Shoes? No. Lipstick? "Clever boy! It usually takes all but the very knowledgeable in swordplay to recognize that and by the time they do the technique has already disarmed them, oftentimes in more than one way", he felt his own wave of relief rush over at these words; he always found himself admiring his Lady's beauty and found it odd that he would fail to notice anything that made her look prettier… "The parry was created to be followed through with a flourish that will send your opponents weapon, with the leverage given from the tip of yours being between their blade and hilt like you saw, flying upward; leaving them at your mercy or lack therof", he couldn't help but let a little confusion slip over his features; he may have read much on the elements of swordsmanship over the years but it was painfully obvious he lacked any practical experience with them. The Knight of Six was well aware of this however, "Well, learn by doing dear! Just remember what I said as clearly as possibly and…think quickly!", and not a split-second earlier had the words left he rose-coloured lips than had Marianne sprung, like a predator towards its prey, headlong at him. His mind was ablaze with fear; fear that he might harm Marianne (unlikely as that may be), fear that Marianne might harm him (which he was certain she could do if she wished, with little effort) and fear that, above all, he would fail to learn anything and that Marianne would be disappointed in him; fail to ensure she wouldn't regret making him her Captain, fail to be able to protect her and her children in their moment of need…he feared failure… "I won't fail!", it was a guttural cry from deep within, it seemed completely involuntary to him in that instant as he threw all the strength he could muster through his arm. It exploded forward at a speed that (while it startled the Marquis) he knew the Empress' was swifter as they flew out to meet; and surely she was not giving her all in this strike…he hoped. All this passed through his mind in a microcosm, a testament to the processing power of the human brain, and he could almost feel the flow of reality around him ebb back to normal. As time slipped back into motion all around him, he focused his eyes with painful intensity on the sabre that was a moment away from piercing his chest and thrust. Scarcely a foot before him Lady Marianne had ground to a halt, her graceful charge an instant from being abandoned before a swordtip had swept past her own, grinded down the side of he blade and wedged itself between hilt and steel. The owner of the pair of bewildered yet ecstatically youthful, orange orbs so close before her face managed to pass an astonished question through his frozen mouth, "Is this 'The Flash'?". She giggled to herself, "Not quite my boy. Remember,", and if her earlier movements had been lightning what erupted then was as a clap of thunder before his very eyes. His wits came to him as he lay on the vibrant lawn, a sabre impaled into the earth on either side of his head (one had been in his own hand just prior) and the white-clad thighs of Lady Marianne pinning him at his ribs as she leaned forward from her seat at his waist, "Didn't I tell you to get rid of my sword?", and she caressed his fevered brow with a cool, gentle hand.

* * *

As Jeremiah and the Empress approached the entry to the villa over the verdant green slopes they were greeted by an elder gentleman he did not fully recognize; in the dimness brought on by the sun which had just slipped over the horizon's edge he could only determine that he wore a monocle and that he was someone that the Marquis knew, had met even. "Ah, Your Majesty, I did not think you would forget our arrangement. Tonight a decision of vital importance is to…who is this?", the man seemed frustrated that he had to abort his priority-charged sentence due to Jeremiah's presence, "Sir, I am Jeremiah Gottwald, Marquis, Captain of Her Majesty the 98th Empress of Brittania's Royal Guard, sir!", he subtly took a breath after giving his title (which, he admitted, he enjoyed doing). "Ah, the boy Cornelia brought to witness the Ganymede testing, it has been some time and I appreciate your patronage of my granddaughter's hobby but I have urgent matters to discuss with the Empress, so if you'd please-", he recognized the dirty-blonde haired man as Lord Ruben Ashford a moment before being reminded of the form-fitting photograph of Lady Marianne he had purchased from young Milly, he recalled the girl's knowing smirk embarrassed him similarly. His hand instinctively slid over his breast pocket where he kept that very same photo beneath his coat, only to realize that Lord Ashford had seemingly abandoned his train of thought on dismissing the young guard to become befuddled over the stray pieces of grass in their hair and the noticeable dirt markings on the hem of Marianne's dress and from the waist of his uniform down, "M-My Lady…not that I mean to intrude but, that is, may I ask why you were so preoccupied?", "Now Ruben, you're not implying that there may be a liaison between the Empress and her young guard are you? How scandalous!". Marianne's mocking tone made it quite clear that she was aware of Ruben's suspicion and the Lord himself was clearly flustered as he moved to pass his comment off as having been in jest, "You are a dear old friend Ruben. I would think that, even if you believed as much, you would never do anything to compromise my name". As Jeremiah led the way to the reception chamber at Marianne's request he reflected; Lord Ashford was possessed of an honorary nobility bestowed by Lady Marianne once she became Empress (from her time as a test pilot for the Foundation, when she became known as 'the Flash' and met Emperor Charles) for his role as her benefactor and his status now relied upon her; the Marquis could tell clearly even from the short time he'd been in the Lord's presence that he prized his ascension to nobility greatly. In the midst of his thought he nearly walked straight by a young man standing out by the side of the reception chamber door, as Marianne came around from his left the Marquis caught her delicately pluck a blade of grass from the hair behind her right shoulder and flick it aside; they'd practiced for a while before she surprised him with the knowledge of her impending meeting but he never realized one could get so dirty practicing swordplay….yet Lord Ruben's apparent suspicions…he would never! She was married! And to the Emperor! "Ah! Kanon, isn't it? It seems all Gabrielle can do of late is tell me of your services to the Prince", the sheen of the faint lavender bangs which framed his lightly flushed, porcelain-like white cheeks glimmered as he bowed his head to the Empress, "The Lady Consort is too kind, I am indeed Earl Kanon Maldini Your Majesty, it's a pleasure". He pushed one half of the double doors behind him inward, "His Highness the Prince speaks to me much of meeting with you also, please", the Marquis stepped forth to hold the other door for Marianne and Ruben and, after they passed through Kanon trained his cerulean crystals upon him, "It appears that the two of us fulfil the same **purposes **to our masters", he ran his fingers behind the ear of the guard captain; loosening some wayward grass matter with a chuckle that disturbed him: these implications had begun to trouble him. "No fair, Gramps! I'm going to see them now and you can't stop me!", a blond girl whipped past his legs only to turn back, poke her tongue out mockingly at her grandfather and vanish up the nearby staircase outside the doorway with a, "Long time no see pervy-photo man, later!", to the young Gottwald. "Milly! You get back here this instant child! I told you to stay with young Nina!", Lord Ruben barked as his move to pursue his granddaughter was checked by Lady Marianne, "Let the girl play; Lelouch could use some of her influence, besides, think Ruben; she may yet marry into royalty", as she laughed into her hand Jeremiah noticed a relieved expression come over the elder man. "Still…", Ashford looked down to the mousy, black haired girl who practically quivered as she clutched the robe hanging down around his legs and attempted to hide herself with it before a deep, elegant voice rose up in response, "Kanon can tend to the young lady for a time Your Lordship", Ruben stepped aside as Prince Schniezel made his way from the far end of the reception chamber table to kneel before the girl (who released her grip with nervous reluctance). "Is this acceptable Young Madam Nina? I can escort you to Young Mistress Milly if you wish", Nina's petit eyes widened before the Second Prince's earnest expression, "I am at your service Young Miss; might I suggest a fairytale or two? I could also dress your hair for you if you wish", at Earl Maldini's kind offerings and outstretched hand the girl bobbed her head lightly and took the manservant's hand before being walked over to the side lounges. "Ah…thankyou, Your Highness…shall we tend to business now then?", the Second Prince concurred with Lord Ashford's suggestion and they both took a seat at the near end of the massive rectangular table in the chambers center along with Lady Marianne while Jeremiah stood guard at the closed doors, "Your Majesty, this is a pivotal point in the history of our Empire; the actions we decide upon here tonight are for the benefit of its future and that of all its subjects…please understand that the Prince and myself harbour only the best of intentions, we mean no slight to you and His Majesty yet…that is…". Ruben trailed off timidly in the face of Marianne's curious expression only for Schniezel to interject after shooting a brief glance at Kanon and Nina; the latter absorbed in a thick book whilst the former twisted her dark locks into twin pigtails, "Albert Einstein is dead, Your Majesty. The loss of the man who fathered our devotion to reform this nation has crippled our plans, meanwhile my own father further devotes himself to the path of greatest bloodshed". The blunt eloquence with which His Highness spoke appeared to thrust the elder mans heart into his throat from nerves but the Empress didn't bat an eyebrow, "This news is regrettable indeed; Albert did so much, for you and me both Ruben, back in the early days at the Foundation. I'd hoped as Director of Rosenberg his duties would do much for the world but it seems that was not to be", a genuine nostalgia and misfortune crept into his Lady's composure. "As had we all, Your Majesty. I believe my greatest blessing in life not to be my royal birth but the honour of being tutor to a man as visionary as he. A man who could convince one of the possibility of an ideal world, so that he might harness the capacity of his station and his own potential in achieving it", the blonde royal leant back in his chair with a confident smile before folding both hands before himself and leaning his head into them cunningly, "Though I am not presumptuous enough to believe I alone can realize Mr. Einstein's will yet". By this time Ashford appeared to regain the ability to speak, "Exactly Your Highness, I admit some…**ill will **may have been felt toward Rosenberg by Albert and I after they created ASEEC to overtake Knightmare manufacture from the Foundation. Yet with Albert becoming Rosenberg's Director while also helming the Foundation's project to mass-produce the Ganymede, not to mention Second Prince Schneizel's support in securing funding approval from both Houses of parliament, we'd hoped to reverse our fortunes". "But with Mr. Einstein's loss-", a grim, serious bent took to the Prince's words, "-I succeeded my mentor's position only to find there to be none among Rosenberg's staff with the genius required to complete the work he had begun in perfecting the machine's design. Thus, the approval of the institute is pointless; I've already ceded its Directorship, and the availability of government funding is moot. We cannot prompt the Emperor to bring a swift end to these wars through the power of omnipotent technology if it does not exist, can we?". "So you want me to convince Charles to let you go about this plan of yours some other way", it was clear that his Lady's sentence had not been a question but a statement and the Prince signalled with a curt wave of his hand for Earl Maldini to escort young Nina from the room. When the stare of Lord Ruben directed at Jeremiah insinuated he leave in turn the young guard was about to bow and duck out the door when the Empress, without turning to face him, raised her hand and wove one finger back and forth in beckoning, "There is nothing I need to discuss here that my closest guardian should not hear". He anxiously scurried forth to stand at her side (avoiding looking at Lord Ashford as best he could) as his sense of appreciation to the Empress was undercut with one of distinct unworthiness, "I seek only to end war as swiftly and definitively as possible and I know this can be achieved; if by absolute technological supremacy then so be it. I move to bid for the position of Prime Minister and my current standing in parliament is highly conducive to a success in this endeavour. In that station I can orchestrate this movement, eventually, for the greater good of our nation and this world in its entirety. However, the Emperor is a powerful man and he will not allow that power to be threatened in any form; he will almost undoubtedly view these actions as trespassing upon his power and quell them outright. Our future, and that of the world, relies upon you Your Majesty; your unique capacity to influence my father for the better". The Marquis was so swept up in the royal's eloquently composed yet utterly passionate filibuster of a speech that he empathized with Ashford's resultant invigoration of confidence, "Yes, yes! If His Majesty the Emperor were…**persuaded** by you yourself Your Majesty to allow His Highness' reforms as Prime Minister; what with reorganisation of Rosenberg's resources, his newly founded Irregular unit in ASEEC and, of course, renewed funding of the Foundation and the many understudies of Albert that remain in our employ, given time, we can surely accomplish our goals! …Please Majesty, I beg you". "For the sake of the world's future…", Marianne mused contemplatively as the rush of excitement in the honorary Lord gave way to a sympathetic plea. The guard caught a glimpse of something vaguely discernible in his mistress' expression; like a deep-rooted sentiment had met some new, unexpected twist whose externalisation on her part was an air of almost mischievous intrigue, "Jeremiah, ready a carriage: I do hope Charles has yet to retire tonight".

* * *

The light which beamed through his chamber window informed Jeremiah that a day had now come between the early hours of this morning and the night in which Lady Marianne agreed to assist Prince Schniezel and Lord Ashford. As he went about his morning routine (dressing in his guard uniform, servicing his rifle, cleaning his sabre and generally freshening himself up for the day on duty ahead) he wondered how the Empress had fared in beseeching her husband; he had remained on guard well past his shift that night to await her return and when she did she spoke almost nothing to him of it yet seemed in as serenely pleasant a mood as she always was. He had no qualms with this plan of reform (anything meant for the good of Britannia, as the Prince, Lord and the Empress' involvement insured him this was, was to be supported in his view) but could not help but worry some about the potentially comprising position it placed his Lady in. Should he ask her whether all was as well as it seemed? His curiosity wrestled with his hesitation. His room was filled with the fresh scent of flowers picked by Princess' Nunnally and Euphemia the day before. Photographs of his parents, Lilicia as well as his graduating session from Colchester were proudly displayed in picture frames. His graduation certificate, Knight of Colchester medallion and sketch from Prince Clovis adorning the walls of the beautiful room otherwise occupied only by his bed, a closet containing half a dozen uniforms (of a Colchester cadet and Royal Guard), his formal robe and less still of his own clothing (which he hardly wore, not to mention was all bought by his sister). After leaving he proceeded downstairs to the dining room to eat breakfast with the other guards before they relieved the night watch and began the day shift, "Rise in the presence of Captain Gottwald, salute!", the chorus echoed from his subordinates as he returned the salute and the villa butlers brought trays of the chefs work to the tables before they took their seats. He was always first of the guards to arrive, except for today that is; due in no small part to the toll that the Third Princess' chaotic visit yesterday and the struggle to remove Milly Ashford from Prince Lelouch the night before had taken on him. With their meal over Jeremiah barely had the time to rub the tired eyes he always prided on being so alert and dispatch his men to their positions when a heavy thump heralded the Villa's main entrance flying open to reveal three figures making their way down the hall toward him and the two guards he had just posted at the great doors looking back through it incredulously. He started toward the intruders with hand at his sword, "I, Captain Jeremiah Gottwald, demand you to identify yourselves!", two of the figures halted (with one drawing a startled high-pitched breath) yet one pushed forward without hesitation and as the blast of sunlight subsided a stern voice boomed, "Leave that silly toy be boy! I don't have time to play with children today!". He thought the worst, that he had threatened the Emperor himself, but though this thankfully turned out not to be so the truth was not much better; the Lady Consort Amazonia li Brittania came to a stop before the Marquis with a decidedly unamused grimace fixed upon the young guard, "My Lady! I…forgive me I-", "Enough grovelling boy! Take me to Marianne at once!". With a nervous nod (and not a small bit of wondering as to why he had become surrounded by so many imposing women) he saw over Lady Amazonia's shoulder that the other two guests were the Lady Consort Gabrielle la Brittania and Lady Nonette Enneagram who both meekly greeted him amidst the other consorts air of intimidation, "Oh, good morning…dear…", "Yo…man…". Luckily, he found the Empress where he first checked; her private chamber on the top floor, Marianne received both the consorts at the door; Gabrielle waved cheerily as she entered while Amazonia stopped midway through the door with eyes closed in quiet frustration, "Marianne, tell your guard-dog to learn his place", she opened her eyes a fraction and fixed them on Jeremiah in a slightly more relaxed fashion, "You saw to Euphemia yesterday; I thank you for that at least", Marianne than closed the door behind her with a smile. "Haha, yeah, I heard Euphie an' Nunnally broke that plate Marianne got for becoming a Round yesterday **but **you and the Empress got it all sorted out, oh, and don't worry about Amazonia; you're a good guy so she'll warm up ta ya eventually. Anyway it's been a while buddy, how ya doin'?", he was pleased to see the casual, sisterly Nonette again after the past year or so as she slapped his back heartily. "Impeccably Lady Nonette, serving under Lady Marianne brings me great pride. Might I ask why you accompanied Lady Gabrielle and Amazonia today? Shouldn't you be instructing at the academy?", waving her hand before her dismissively Nonette replied, "Nah, after a year I knew it wasn't for me so I gave that up. I ain't really doin' anythin' right now but…well…I guess I might wind up as a Round pretty soon…". The Marquis dropped the rifle propped rigidly against his in sheer shock but did not even pay it any mind, "My Lady! Truly! That's amazing! How!", Lady Enneagram stared out into space as she unenthusiastically recounted an anecdote in response, "Marianne's gonna sponsor me, the Emperor normally chooses the Rounds but any royal can sponsor someone to be one, Marianne's helped me out since I was a little squirt; trainin' me, gettin' me inta Colchester an' a teachin' job an' all that, but now…", this extent of this relation came as news to Jeremiah (but not the sponsorship method; courtesy of Lilicia's tutoring). "Lady Marianne trained you as well! That makes us fellow students! Please tell me more!", his enthusiasm did not seem contagious, "Huh? Well I was a runt from the bottom tier streets ya' know, never knew my mum or dad, but Amazonia found me and took me in way back when so she's kinda like a mum ta me; Cornelia and Euphie me little sisters an' Marianne sorta an auntie I spose 'cuz her an' Amazonia 've always been so close". "Incredible! What a glorious life, Lady Marianne's truly an amazing person isn't she", even he had noticed that his fellow Knight of Colchester had now become quite uncomfortable, "Come on, don't you know! This ain't all fun an' games y'know…'cuz if I the Emperor decides I'm not cut out ta be a Round then Marianne 'll-", her explanation was cut short as the door nearby flew open. Amazonia strode out into the hall with her aggravated aura simmering as crisp as ever, "You expect me to believe this is not related to that address you made two days ago? I'm no fool Marianne you know that…you are your own woman, I won't stop you, but are you sure you want to do this?", Lady Gabrielle scurried out to comfort the other consort, "Oh Ama, I doubt Charles would ever do that to Mari, oh, and besides these two darlings would pass with flying colours anyway I'm certain; there's no need to-". After one of "Ama"'s eyes shaking from frustration glanced at Jeremiah she snapped back at her friend, "Gabi-argh, Gabrielle! I've told you we're not children anymore! You're a grown woman for Brittania's sake!", as Gabrielle broke out in a flustering of "oh"'s the Empress herself walked out of the private room and over to a confused Jeremiah and downbeat Nonette. "Jeremiah, Nonette is ready to become a Knight of Round and I am sponsoring her to face a series of three trials she must undertake to be accepted by the Emperor. In following the tradition set by the first Empress, when she championed a knight who failed the first Emperor as a Round, if a royal's candidate is not accepted then they are stripped of their title and position", Jeremiah was dumbfounded; as much as he would celebrate Nonette's knighthood he could not fathom Marianne's disinheritance. "Amazonia suspects that Charles may intentionally be rid of me", the consorts looked on anxiously, "While I know that to be out of genuine concern I also know he will treat it as a fair test of both Nonette's skill and my resolve". Her resolve? Did this indeed have something to do with the request she made on behalf of Prince Schneizel and Lord Ashford as Lady Amazonia assumed? The Empress placed a hand on each of the knights' shoulders, "Jeremiah, you must oppose Nonette in the first trial to help her succeed; the Trial of Skill, nowadays, is a Knightmare duel and I personally know you're both skilled in that area. Since I've instructed both of you it should be a genuinely captivating battle in which each brings out the best in the other". She flashed one of her stunning smiles, "Of course, my fate rests on this as well so do your best for me too okay?", faced with such severe repercussions Jeremiah felt an intent drive to live up to these expectations, "I will not fail you Your Majesty, I never fail!".


	14. Stage Turn 14: On the Finest of Knights

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 14: On the Finest of Knights **_

**a.t.b. 2009 **

The billowing wind rushed past Jeremiah Gottwald as he stood up from the disengaged cockpit of his personal Glasgow Frame, whipping his ever growing ponytail (he had made a point not to cut it since Marianne had first recommended he wear one so it now reached almost halfway down his back, he secretly hoped to grow it longer than even Sir Guilford's eventually) over the front of his shoulders as he held a rigid salute.

Even amidst the massive Imperial Richard Hector Memorial Colosseum, every single person had risen up; the thousands of noble spectators who filled, with a vibrant array of colour, the amphitheatre seating structure, towering so amazingly high it nearly blocked out any view of the sky from the ground within it, bowed deeply where they stood from their seats.

His inactive Knightmare knelt down upon the square-shaped stone ring that rose up almost six feet from the earth as if to too was paying salutations, Lady Nonette stood in salute from her own distinctly

pink-coated Glasgow which knelt by the opposite side of the ring directly facing his own as their two pilots both craned their heads up to gaze upon the same position high up along the amphitheatre wall.

A balcony-like plateau jutted out from this section of the wall in such a embellished fashion it could be clearly seen from anywhere within the colosseum, in fact, it was more like several balconies all in close proximity; to the left sat Lady Marianne, Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally. On the right sat all the current members of the Knights of Round; among whom, Nonette had informed him, was a returned Dorothea Ernst. Finally, the lowest plateau bore host to the Lady Consorts: Milady Gabrielle, Milady Amazonia and with their royal children all in attendance.

However it was the uppermost balcony, bearing the most embellished golden architecture and a sculpture of Sir Hector: the very Knight of One for which this arena was named, upon which Emperor Charles zi Britannia loomed stalwartly; his presence projected mightily over the entire stadium.

"Servants of Britannia! Your Emperor demands your ear! I declare that the Trials of the Rounds are now to commence!", and with that rather short announcement the Emperor took his seat once more as another figure stepped forth to continue.

""Your Majesty", the much darker-skinned man saluted as he took the fore, "These three trials shall test the fledgling's power, courage and wisdom respectively so as to determine whether they are worthy of joining the finest swords and shields of His Majesty's Empire".

While Jeremiah strained to make out any of the discontent he sensed from His Majesty's gruff succinctness in his outward appearance the current speaker resumed, "Upon the completion of all three trials His Majesty and the currently seated Knights of Round shall convene to reach a verdict upon their worth; as Kinight of One, Bismarck Waldstein, I swear to allow only those of the most elite fealty and skill the esteemed honour of this acceptance", truly a man needing no introduction.

"Now, Nonette Enneagram of the Imperial Colchester Institute, prove yourself to our Emperor! Jeremiah Gottwald of the Order of St. Darwin is the opponent you have selected to face in the Trial of Power. A duel of Knightmare Frames shall display the might you will place at the Emperor's command, may you and your opponent do your utmost for only then shall your true skills manifest themselves. Now, begin!".

On that mark both Jeremiah and Nonette dropped down into their cockpits and loaded them back into their Frames before raising them up to their feet; their duel had begun!

Jeremiah's hands grasped firmly at the handles of his Knightmare's controls, in them he felt and adjusted the balance of the lance (his chosen weapon for the duel) as if he himself levelled it at Nonette on the far side of the ring rather than his machine.

The weapon was newly designed to serve as top-of-the-line armament for the Sutherland Frame, fast approaching its completion, and Jeremiah had weighed the benefits of a weapon that even the prodigy Lady Enneagram had never faced over the detriment of one he (as with almost all other pilots) had never wielded.

The Lady herself had beamed a great, boyish smile at him back in the Coliseum's cavernous hangar before fixing him a competitive stare whilst responding that she would take no weapon of her own to the field.

The presiding official and the waiting engineer crew were dumbfounded a this choice but Jeremiah had instead swallowed down at knot of nerve in his throat for he had feared as much; Lady Marianne had told him to beware what Nonette called her Iron Dance but would not elaborate for the sake of fairness and her sense of excitement at his timid curiosity.

The common-born Knight had duelled with senior cadets and her fellow instructors on a few occasion over the time both she and himself were at Colchester but it had always been the case that he heard the news too late; he either made way to the duelling grounds from his studies too late or the bout was already over by the time he heard of it...this rightfully unsettled him as it subtly attested to the sheer prowess that allowed his now opponent to defeat all her challengers so hastily; she never gave any slack in combat and she never lost, except to the Flash herself, and even his Empress praised Nonette's fearsome growth since she had first begun being trained by her back before her admittance to the Institute.

Yet he too had trained under Lady Marianne; even more regularly this past year in her Guard as he had for three years as a Colchester cadet (an honour which, he reflected unfortunately, had not been afforded to Nonette) though he would need every minute of masterful instruction he could muster as his opponent flew toward him now.

Her Frame moved with a blazing speed that touched the Flash's own, she planted a foot in the rock-solid marble, pivoted with all the grace of a Society noblewoman's pirouette in a full revolution before flinging herself forward with one leg outstretched, the other flowing back behind deadly straight as she propelled herself dozens of feet forward before repeating the process, hastily and without the slightest pause.

Skill such as this was bound to win her a place among the Rounds…but what of his Lady's fate if that was not so? The time for thought ended when she touched down but some two dozen feet from him.

He threw his weight behind him and grinned inwardly to see it keep a straight and narrow course to the heart of the pink-clad Knightmare as it twirled into another vault and headlong into his blunted tip.

The grin flushed away as the extended right leg swung back, mid-air, to be replaced by the backward left; tilting the Frame's weight to the other side and sending it gliding along the side of his now fully extended lance.

Yet it continued, not just a tilt to avoid an attack but a swing to launch one. The right leg bent and pulled its knee beside the left thigh as the rest of the leg followed through, swinging the whole machine so its right side faced down and the left foot crashed into his Glasgow's head.

The full weight of Enneagram's Knightmare Frame brought the feet of his from the ground before its right side collided with the ring's surface, head nearly crushed between it and its foe's foot which then glided left again as Nonette pushed up off her Frame's hands and sent it into a backflip, spinning like a corkscrew as it went, and onto its feet again.

Sir Gottwald wrenched himself up and to the left as he spurred his Glasgow to its feet, wincing at a dull throb of pain from his right side as this Knightmare up-righted and he realized from the static across the majority of his viewscreen that his head unit was all but crushed and severed from the Frame proper, it came away easily in his metal hands (no wonder, after **that** impact!) and he tossed it aside.

This duel was with authentic Knightmares, not the dummy Frames they duelled with at Colchester, but it was still contested under the same stipulations; it would end when one party yielded, was rendered unconscious, died (though a very unlikely outcome, he was thankful) or lost use of either their body component (where the cockpit resided) or any two limbs.

The head would not count toward his defeat conditions but no doubt Lady Enneagram had targeted the unit intentionally in order to disable it; this destroyed the Factsphere therein and thus blacked out all but a modest circle at the centre of the viewscreen before him…not to mention that this Glasgow was a gift from Lady Marianne herself and he had been unable to prevent it from taking such damage…how disgraceful.

If Nonette was to have her way with him so simply than his own embarrassment would be of least concern; how much of her skill could she exhibit against an opponent who fell after some two or three minutes? Jeremiah had already realized that Nonette's prowess was a class above his own and doubted he could hold out much longer to allow her to put on the more outstanding showcase of her talent she thoroughly deserved.

And if she failed to impress His Majesty then she would be no Round and the blame would fall rightfully to him, Jeremiah could only imagine what he would feel toward one who cost him such an honour.

And what of his Empress? She had gambled her very way of life on his ability to help Lady Enneagram succeed! If he let her down she would be a royal no longer; she would lose claim to all her titles and land, cast out from her home and forcibly estranged from her children.

What would become of Prince Lelouch and Lady Nunnally if robbed of their mother so? Would their birthrights be forfeit in kind? They would undoubtedly despise him regardless. Curse his name until their dying day. …As would their mother, the woman he…

He turned his Knightmare, adjusting its angle awkwardly to compensate for his now crippled viewscreen, to locate the Knight of Six on her spectator's platform. Though his view of her was distant and of generally poor quality he could make out that she sat normally, with no hint of distress, as she ran one hand atop her daughters head and pawed at her sons hair unfettered. She **trusted **him.

Whether that was truly the case or his own desperately desired wishful thinking he allowed it to flood him with rigid determination and courage. "Prepare yourself, my lady!", he hefted the lance behind his missing head with one arm, "Come on lover boy! I'm always ready for ya!" they both gave their throaty war cries as Jeremiah sent his right hand sailing forward with lance in tow, releasing it the instant the arm came fully extended before him in a great arc.

His left hand slammed the butt of the weapon in an open palm as it left the other; sending the now projectile rocketing at its pink target.

"That all ya got! Hah!", Nonette spun her Landspinners at a furious pace but kept her Frame anchored to the spot with stalwart intensity. As the lance came within roughly a length of itself from her she snapped the Landspinners to the left, sending her Knightmare swivelling into a tight circular motion that quickly brought her back to where she began. But not before the lance had flown past and planted itself just behind her.

"I'mma tough broad, ya hear! You gonna come 'n get me or what!".

Nonette Enneagram would get what she wished for, prepared or not.

Jeremiah had hunkered his machine down on all fours as his lance-tip distracted Nonnette's attention; he sunk its fingers into the nearest of the divots she had left in the ring floor during her opening charge and flung himself forward with it as leverage, pushing on with his feet in unison.

He could only see through a narrow scope of screen but that was all he needed to look at the holes in the ground when hunched down like this.

He counted down the number of divots frantically to judge distance in his approach to Nonette (she had danced back to her starting position after delivering that kick; likely setting up for another such manoeuvre to pick him to pieces)…_5…4…3…2…1! _

As he ceased to bound toward his foe like an overexcited hound he said a silent prayer that his lance had provided him enough of a distraction for this gambit to pay off. He pulled up into a crouch, touching his Landspinners down and slanting them hard to the left, cranking the acceleration on as hard as his hands could muster.

The defiant hiss of the machines thundered through his cockpit, drowning out Enneagram's provocative boast, while continuing to force down the accelerator on the control sticks that met his hands he pushed outward on them; reaching almost blindly for the lance he had never intended to hit his opponent but rather arc past her into **somewhere **right around here…!

His upturned, outstretched right hand found the hilt it groped after and was swiftly joined by its counterpart; pulling the lance up and out of the stone it was embedded in as his Knightmare followed through with the on-the-spot revolution he had sent it into careening into.

As he came round to face Nonette he swung the lance skyward, rearing the tip upwards and outwards like a cornered man desperately slashing up at his assailant, clenching the hilt with both hands; his iron grip drawing its length straight and solid as it flew up into a great, diagonal swipe.

_If I can cleave straight through the middle I'll have won - no - I only need to take off the head; that will level the field, _the thought flew through his mind in an instant as the weight of his revolving Knightmare finally brought his target into view once more.

She must have only just caught sight of him as he brought the lance around on her right but she moved with masterful reflex; she swept her left Landspinner in a three-quarter circle so that its leg stretched out behind her while the right was pointed out in front, facing him, but Jeremiah knew not even nimble Nonette could beat him to the punch with a counterattack now; not in the pinch he had caught her in.

Yet she knew this just as well and thus threw her blisteringly honed speed into an evasion attempt; pushing off the thrust-out right foot into a backward leap out of his cleaving range. His tip caught steel, not air.

From just above her Frame's left hip as both of its feet left the ground in escape Jeremiah's lance-tip pierced its armoured skin. Swept up in the sheer force of the swing it carved up through the machine's pink-plated chest to the cockpit at its upper-center. The plating of the cockpit was not stern enough to repel the mighty swing yet the lance cleft across its front it glanced up, short of the head flying back with its newly cleft body.

As Enneagram touched down on the north side of the ring, under the platforms that hosted their most highborn spectators, even Jeremiah Gottwald allowed the hint of a smirk to creep into the corner of his mouth as the pink Glasgow's otherwise graceful touchdown was marred as it staggered to the right, unbalanced from the hunk of iron gouged out of its side.

* * *

"Hey! Ya got me! Ya actually got me! Way to go kiddo!", an almost bizarrely exuberant shout of revelry rang out from the lopsided machine balancing itself in front of him. He watched on, half shocked and half scrutinizing, as Lady Nonette's shoulders bounced up and down in bursts of raucous, boyish laughter.

The shock came from why he was able to actually see her; the gash his fierce lance blow had inflicted on her Frame had partially sheered across the front of the cockpit and exposed the pilot now standing therein (as much as its ceiling would allow her; Nonette was especially tall for a woman, she was pretty much of a height with Jeremiah himself and he was somewhat tall in his own right).

The scrutiny undercut his sense of accomplishment at landing such a powerful, well-planned blow with the observation that he had not removed any of her Knightmare's limbs with it and she still possessed her head unit and all the visibility advantage it afforded her.

_Right, that must go next! That structural damage will offset her movements and if I can rob her of the sight to help coordinate I can win, I know I can! But Lady Enneagram is dangerous; I act now! _

"Forgive me, my Lady! I cannot afford to offer you reprieve!", he made to lunge forward and behead her machine with a tilt of his lance but the lady knight had already taken back up the controls, swaggering into a diagonal angle as she pitched ahead to meet him.

"Damn straight you can't! This purdy lady's still kickin'!", as the right shoulder of her mech slid down the underside of his polearm, letting fly a splash of golden sparks and an accompanying metallic screech, he realized all too late how skilful his opponent was as she used her maligned weight balance to her advantage in dodging his blow to drive a thrusted metal knee into the cockpit wall before him.

Sir Gottwald did not even have time to regain his diligently practiced knightly composure before she threw the offending right knee back and followed through on its momentum with a second battering ram pounding against his cockpit as the left knee now was withdrawn from his steel coat.

The first strike had managed to clip the back of his skull into the light steel plate behind him and for a second or two he was not properly conscious. However, perhaps thankfully, the second dashed his head back once again and seemed to knock his smarts back into his now decidedly smarting head, reeling forth in nigh vain hope of mounting a defence.

The onslaught continued. Before the narrow scope that passed for his vision he saw the pink metal spin around in a circle, its left side; ragged and torn, bending inward as it passed him though this only served to **quicken** the revolution. Jeremiah caught a glimpse of the backside of an outstretched fist at the edge of his viewscreen and a beat later it slammed into the side of his Glasgow and sent it into a similar spiral.

_I'm coming round to face her with such speed! She'll launch an attack in my blind spot and all this momentum will carry me into it at full force! I can't stop the Glasgow! I have to know how she'll strike so I can…this angle…and with her weight imbalance to counteract…I must try at least! _

Emptying his mind of everything else, Sir Gottwald steadied both metal hands as he came about to face the fury of Nonette's Iron Dance and focused on wedging his lance's tip in the stone floor before him. He felt it sink in with a crunch as his Frame screeched into an unsteady halt, only to be followed by another sound, one which sent his spirit soaring.

He had tried to read her next move and he had read it correctly. Lady Enneagram had let loose a high kick from her ravaged left side, unable to balance such a blow from the right, much like the one that claimed his head earlier in the duel though this one meant to blow his cockpit straight out of its Frame. That is, before it had caught on the side of his lance.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the momentum of the duel flipped from Jeremiah being one move from defeat to his opponent being wide open as her leg swung back awkwardly, causing the entire Knightmare to shake and pivot back on the left foot as it landed and struggled to support its half of the metal hulk's bulk. _She's open! Her head is mine! _

He drew his weapon up from the stone with a grunt of exertion, brought it up and out until it ran parallel out before him and then up overhead like the great-axe of an executioner before bringing the butt of the hilt down onto the pink head unit before him. It smashed satisfyingly underneath his weighty blow as the hilt buried itself into the softer metal and mass of cables underneath, jolting the pink mech out of its swagger to a standstill.

His viewscreen showed him an evened score; no longer would be at such a striking visibility disadvantage. _I can win now! I even have her stuck to the spot! Now I just need to remove the lance at the right_ –but his viewscreen had more to show him; Nonette had drawn back her hands and assumed some strange gesture that he did not recognize at first.

The memory drifted back to him of the elective classes that Nonette had offered at Colchester for the first year of his session there, her first as an instructor. It had been intended to teach hand-to-hand combat, her own idea, as the self defence classes instructed only on swordplay which (as the lady instructor had remarked) wasn't of much use if a knight found themselves fighting for their life without a sword on hand.

Jeremiah had attended the first 'class' if it could be called such; it consisted solely of the boisterous Lady beating the daylights out of any cadet unfortunate to step up for 'lessons'…himself included. "When some bastard tries ta beat ya bloody or worse he ain't gonna teach ya how ta fight back, trust me!", she had defended her method.

He recognized the stance of her Knightmare before him as the same she herself adopted back then right before she'd punched him so hard in the gut he chocked back the urge to purge his breakfast in response. But **how ** could she see him to aim? Her Glasgow was turned side-on toward him and her viewscreen would now be as miniscule as his; she couldn't aim such a haymaker at him now without eyes to see where it was going…

In a matter of seconds he noticed the gash which ran over the front of her cockpit, he noticed that Nonette had lain her right leg along the jagged rim while the other remained inside the cockpit to balance her as she leaned her upper body out through the gouge, he noticed her wild eyes and ferocious smile as she swept the metal arms forth using her own stretched down the front of her chest to meet the control sticks back inside the hull and, finally, he certainly noticed the shock of twin open-handed blows that loosed the cockpit with such power that it engaged the emergency ejection system and sent his cockpit flying out from the back of his Glasgow; to safety and to defeat.

* * *

His body hurt, yes, but his pride hurt more. Jeremiah mentally blocked out the aches that had sprung up from all the exertion of the duel and composed himself to the best of his ability before setting about prying open the cockpit hatch.

He was quickly joined by from outside the cockpit and the hatch door opened out to reveal Nonette standing up on the outside of his cockpit hull wearing her signature winning smile; she had won after all. She extended a hand to help him out of the hull and down onto the grass of the square perimeter between the marble ring in the center of the coliseum and the audience amphitheatre which served as its border, all the while a clamour of clapping (both polite and erratic) and shouted cheers rained down over them from the latter.

"Damn good fight, kid! Damn good! I was worryin' a little at the start but 'cha really picked up and got me cornered after that! It was so frickin' close! We gotta go another round sometime, eh!", the lady knight laughed out through a big, cheesy grin she could not seem to wipe from her face. She threw one arm side-to-side repeatedly above her head in an exaggerated wave, bouncing to each side of the spectator stands in turn.

_She is pleased with the duel; that's a relief. I may have lost but I suppose this wasn't truly failure on my part at all. Lady Nonette certainly doesn't seem to think so. I gave her the best battle I possibly could in which to prove herself and she proved some magnificent skill. I rather succeeded admirably! …Though I suppose His Majesty will be the only true judge of that come the end of these Trials… _

It was out of his hands now he reassured himself (for which he was thankful; his hands rather hurt) and the aspiring Round still had two trials to face. He, meanwhile, would go to His Lady and a well earned rest. He and Nonette strolled back up to a set of steps which returned them atop the ring they had fought upon while behind them a band of engineers had already set about loading up and carrying away Jeremiah's ejected cockpit. By the time they stood on the marble floor again the rest of his Glasgow and Enneagram's pink one had already been escorted aside.

A high, soft voice with a preachy tone that instantly alerted him to its owners identity filtered down from the high box where the Emperor sat. The Knight of Three, Jesuit Weinberg, had taken up vigil beside His Majesty to make the announcements, "By the grace of His Majesty, the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Charles zi Britannia, Nonette Enneagram will now face the second of the Three Trials of the Rounds. The Trial of Courage will now commence. In this duel, His Majesty shall select a champion of his choosing to face the fledgling Round in single combat. May the chosen champion come forth now".

A thickly muscled man climbed up onto the ring, his long and thick legs carrying him up three steps at a time with ease, his brown hair hung down behind and framed the sides of his face; so dark it was almost black, even against the darker tones of the skin it hung against. The ornate, gold encrusted cloak draped behind his shoulders and the greatsword slung in a oversized, black leather scabbard banded in thickly wrought silver over it should have made his identity known to all before Sir Weinberg's unnecessary introduction; "Sir Bismarck Waldstein, Knight of One". He caught Lady Nonette mutter an expletive under her breath beside him, he did not know which it was exactly (though he had come to learn she knew many a curse that the Gottwald knight had never heard in his life) but it sounded less of surprise and more of apprehension.

"Duelists may call upon a squire to provide their selected weapon. The trial will begin once both duelists are readied and give their assent. May the Lord God be with you both. I pray He guides your blades and guards your lives. Amen.", the droning sermon ended.

Jeremiah had no cause to begrudge the Knight of Three personally, in fact he was commonly held to be quite kind, honest and charitable; a true friend to the people by all accounts. Neither did Jeremiah hold any animosity for the old religion or the people who still kept their faith in it, of which all of House Weinberg was included.

The only qualm the mans voice had stirred within him was the doubt of his worthiness as a Round. Each scion of House Weinberg had been recognized as Knight of Three ever since the foundation of Britannia, beginning with Sir Ricardo centuries ago. That he believed a seat among the Rounds should be earned, not passed down, was an issue alone yet Sir Jesuit had never partook in a battle in all his sixty odd years.

He was snapped back to the present as Nonette's fingers snapped at the lobe of his ear, "You listenin'! Go fetch me bastard sword, ya hear!", she broke her hold on him and cursed again, 'I figured he'd put me up against his buddy The Strongest…look 't the size of that bloody thing! But I ain't scared, nah, I got some brawn of me own! Let's fight fire with fire, eh pretty boy! Whaddaya reckon? Do I got a chance?".

Jeremiah nodded nervously; Bismarck Waldstein was hailed not just by the Empire but across the world as 'The Strongest Knight' for good reason, so the history lessons and tell-tales recounted ad infinitum. A battle-proven veteran before his twentieth birthday, mighty as any with his Knightmare and without equal with his blade. Except, perhaps, when Lady Marianne was concerned. Still, he felt that even with all her bravado and courage Lady Nonette was in need of some small reassurance at least. He was glad to escape the awkward moment as he set off at a jog from the ring, passing through an opening in the amphitheatre and down a corridor toward the armoury where Nonette had left the hand-and-a-half blade she now sent him to retrieve. _A knight playing squire? I wonder whether Lilicia_ _would be humoured or humiliated to see this? Perhaps I should be thankful Prince Schneizel busies her so in the House of Lords. _

He passed by several pairs of guards from his Order of St. Darwin in the same raven blue martial regalia with the pale red stripe and golden trim and shoulder-guards he had worn for a good year now, flanking him with one on each wall every couple dozen feet along, they paid him salutes and he turned his head side-to-side to repay each a bow of his head.

He only left Aries Villa rarely; to visit Lilicia and the servants who kept their family's estate and that of House Troy which had passed to them but his esteem as Captain of the Empress' Guard was known to those who served in this Order at least; they were the guards who stood watch for the highest tier of the city Pendragon and the royal relatives on St. Darwin Street as well as the knights, like he, who commanded them.

The knights he could tell from the longswords which hung at their waist beside the rifles they all held; all knights were bestowed longswords upon their knighting and had been trained to wield them though they'd become largely ceremonial and few continued or used this training nowadays.

Lady Marianne had become a master of the lighter, slimmer of blade sabre however and so had taken to presenting a sabre to each newly dubbed knight who graduated from Colchester since she'd become the institution's Chief Instructor. It was a sabre that dangled along his waist and another which he clutched in his left hand as he marched on ahead.

The latter belonged to Lady Nonette who had received it from the Empress when she was knighted a session before himself. She had asked him to hold onto it for her in favour of the bastard sword, "I never got real good with one like you an' Nelly an' Lady Marianne; it's quick but a good knife's always quicker. If I have ta fight with swords best go big or go home", 'Nelly' was the nickname for her closest friend Princess Cornelia; she had allowed herself to use in front of him after he ceased to be one of her students though even she always called Marianne 'Lady'.

As fearsome as Nonette was in unarmed and Knightmare combat (which he had learned personally, the hard way) he knew nothing of her skill with a sword…and everything about Bismarck's. As much as his insides had boiled in star-struck fluttering to finally meet the Knight of One in person it was cooled by a suspicion he hoped would soon be disproven by Lady Enneagram. _She has strength, but skill?…Please! She will need it. _

He took the bastard sword from the armourer with his thanks and quickly wondered whether it was really crafted with the intent to be wielded with either one or two hands as he fastened the strap of its sheath. The weight of it pulled down on his already sore back and dug in where it sat over his right shoulder, sending him fussing and re-adjusting it all the way back.

When he made it back to Nonette she stopped pacing to and fro and leaned over him to wrench the blade straight up and out from its confines, sweeping it diagonally with her right arm and then her left before bringing it down with both hands in a straight line before her as if to bisect the invisible X mark she had carved into the air. "Cheers Jeremiah, guess I'm ready as I'll ever be…Nelly's watchin', gotta make her proud".

He scurried back to stand beside the opening in the wall he had just passed through as Bismarck Waldstein slowly and calmly drew free his massive greatsword in response, holding it still and straight before him. Nonette had called him by his actual name rather than some jest as she always did since he graduated, this and the absence of her ever present air of levity, amusement and cheer disquieted the young knight even further as he watched her take stance with the sword hoist above her head with one hand while the other was crooked up an open just in front of the hilt.

The clearing of Sir Weinberg's throat and his following order to "Begin!" was clear enough to him from where he stood as it echoed through the speakers and the natural acoustics of the coliseum but he found himself wishing he could move closer to the ring as he struggled to clearly make out the blades dancing about before him.

He considered making for Lady Marianne's box but it was too high a climb and the fear that he would miss the end of the duel overruled the notion, he strained his eyes into a squint to try and make thing out as clearly as he could yet still they came to him only in the odd glimpses.

Nonette's sword jumped from one hand to another as she tried to catch a hole in Sir Waldstein's guard. Yet whenever it looked to Jeremiah that she may have found one the statuesque man would also loose a hand from his hilt and its thick, broad blade flew faster than it should have been able to block the strike.

The second hand would then rejoin the other as the Knight of One brought his greatsword into a great sweeping blow but the young knight was able to make out Lady Enneagram duck under and dance back a few paces. _Yes! Your speed my Lady! Sir Waldstein may be able to strike as swiftly as he needs to but surely you can outpace him…surely! _

As if she had telepathically shared in these thoughts Nonette charged her opponents with all the speed and fire it seemed she could muster. She gave no quarter and threw all her energy behind each of the flurry of blows she rained down on Bismarck's stalwart spike of iron.

The Knight of One moved to end the assault though he figured; he appeared to flourish the metal hulk before him, putting Lady Nonette on her back foot hesitantly, hefting it up above his head and moving to cleave the female knight in two as shocked gasps rang out all around.

She must have tried to meet his strike with all her weight thrown behind it because next he knew she was spinning backward, her slender body would have made her even harder to see if not for the musculature brimming all over and filling out her otherwise boyish figure.

He could not describe how the duel ended in any great detail; the bastard sword was planted into the ring and Nonette was revolving (on her hip?) atop its hilt, her outstretched legs seemed to catch Bismarck in the head full tilt and she came to a stop. Then, a beat later, there was no sword in the ground and the body which was balanced horizontally in mid-air along the top of it was plummeting down what must have been nearly six feet to the unforgiving stone floor below with a giant, braced hand enclosed around its throat.


	15. Stage Turn 15: On the Darkest of Nights

_**Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty **_

_**Stage/Turn 15: On the Darkest of Nights **_

**a.t.b. 2009 **

**(The Imperial Richard Hector Memorial Coliseum; at the apparent conclusion of Nonette Enneagram's second Rounds Trial, of Courage) **

All around him Jeremiah Gottwald could feel the suffocating silence crushing him like a vice as the most preeminent noble lords, ladies, heirs, knights and common-born politicians of the capital city Pendragon held their breath in nervous anticipation, himself chiefly among them.

The fledgling Knight of Round Nonette Enneagram was pressed flat upon her back by the man who had been her opponent in the duel that raged between them seconds ago. But the Knight of One had unquestionably prevailed in that bout, a fearsome testament to his moniker: 'The Strongest Knight', and now held the unmoving young woman's throat in his black leather and iron gauntlet where she lay bested beneath him.

He could see the bronze-skinned man crane his head away from the lady knight he crouched down over (still looking as tall as if he were only hunched forward) to peer up above where Jeremiah stood below the amphitheatre wall, above of which the young Sir Gottwald knew the Emperor himself sat stalwartly leering down at the proceedings.

As if reciting one of his sermons, Sir Jesuit Weinberg's high and soft drone answered the look, "His Majesty proclaims that the Trial of Courage is at an end. The victor is his champion; Sir Bismarck Waldstein, Knight of One. He bids you rise in salutation of the victorious Sir Waldstein and the defeated Lady Enneagram".

For a moment no one moved or made a peep, merely watching as Sir Waldstein rose up to his feet bringing an alive and apparently unmaimed Lady Nonette along with one heavy, bristling arm across her back. She found her feet and bobbed her head at him in what might have been a meagre bow. At the sight of her alive, conscious and uprighted by the Round the crowd loosed a roar of clapping, cheering and exhalation.

After allowing the relief to wash over him as well Jeremiah remembered that he had been acting as Nonette's squire for the duel and so he strode out across the dark marble path, verdant green grass below and swarming masses of spectators above, to the center of the lighter marble ring.

Lady Nonette put up a strong exterior as she bobbed her head to and fro in thanks to the audience but the normal jovial light was not in her slightly sullen eyes as she had rubbed at sore skin and muscle beneath her lightly armoured trappings and tried to reclaim her breath in ragged gasps.

He told her she had fought valiantly as he handed back her sabre but he was unsure whether she heard as he could scarcely hear himself over the clamour of the applause. She bobbed her head again, this time at him with what might have been a wink to the ground nearby that he only half saw as she fussed clumsily and tiredly with fixing the scabbard at her waist.

He tried to follow the gesture but what it had aimed at was plain to see; the bastard sword he had fetched for Enneagram lay two or three feet to his right from where he stood facing Nonette. The weapon had been a good deal greater than a longsword as even now either of the two metal shards it had been cleanly shorn into could pass for a longsword's blade.

Another couple of feet along stood the man who had cut it, the adamantly thick folded black steel of the greatsword responsible had its point rested on the floor with one hand gripping its hilt before its wielders chest. The Knight of One had closed his eyes and bent his head ever so slightly in reception of the shower of praise raining down on them but had also raised his free hand open just above his head, calling for silence once more.

Perhaps because of this the salutations soon died down and Sir Waldstein brought his hard gaze back up to the Emperor's box, "Your Majesty!", his booming voice projected into and bounced off the coliseum walls with such power that Jeremiah would not be surprised His Majesty was able to hear it even at the very top of the structure.

"Lady Enneagram chose to wield a bastard sword against me in this duel. I mean no offence, but it was obvious in combating her that this is a weapon she has little combat experience with. I beseech you to allow me, as your strongest sword, to fight another duel so that this fledgling may demonstrate the true extent of the skill she may provide the Rounds".

Murmurings spilled forth from throughout the amphitheatre walls in tones of curiosity and confusion, "His Majesty reminds you that that the Trial of Courage is at an end, sir", the speakers conveyed the words of the Knight of Three as he conveyed the words of Charles zi Brittannia, "Besides, he believes it plain and clear that Lady Enneagram cannot defeat his Knight of One in single combat, no matter her chosen arms".

"Very well, then I shall not request a bout of single combat from His Majesty", Bismarck replied unfazed as his free arm now stretched out toward himself and Nonette, "This is Sir Jeremiah Gottwald, a knight of the Order of St. Darwin and Captain of Her Majesty's Royal Guard. He has served as squire for Lady Enneagramm this day and as her opponent for the Trial of Power. I request that he be allowed to join swords with the fledgling now and I shall face them both for the Emperor's pleasure".

Jeremiah missed a breath, his heart skipped a beat and his voice caught in his throat. For a moment he thought he might suffocate then and there, that his heart might stop beating altogether or that he would choke to death on the spot. But instead he remained frozen where he stood from fear and it was all he could do to watch the Emperor's sky-borne box as Sir Weinberg turned his back on them all to hear the royal verdict.

He faced them again, "His Majesty warns that he has already judged Lady Enneagram for her performance in the first two trials and that this request will do nothing to change his judgments. Otherwise he sees no cause to deny you, sir, and will allow this so long as there are no further distractions thereafter. He reminds you that the third trial still awaits, sir, and that it is longest of all".

Sir Waldstein bowed a knee with both hands clasped over the hilt of the fierce greatsword before him, "You honour me, Your Majesty", the genuine gratitude and satisfaction in his deep, commanding voice further unnerved Jeremiah…if that were even possible at this point.

As Bismarck's squire backed away begrudged that he would still be laboured with the weight of his oversized cloak and scabbard Jeremiah wrenched his eyes away from the hunk of black steel that hung in the Rounds hand to the lithe, light sabre that he clutched in his only to realize that his hands had begun to shake.

_If a sabre can even match blows with such a blade in the first place it certainly couldn't in these hands. You'd be a fool not to be afraid, true, this is the Strongest Knight after all. But you are a knight yourself. You fight for your honour. You fight for Lady Nonette's dream. You fight for the lives of your lady and her children; for Lady Marianne… _

He clenched his off hand firm as he could around the sheath as he slid out the steel within, tensing his sword arm as rigid as he could all the while, hoping that Lady Marianne's teachings and the words he told himself about fighting for her would give him strength. He would need it.

Nonette prodded him sharply in this right arm with her elbow, "Marianne told me ya know how ta use these things. Well, you'll do better with 'em than me anyways. Bastard swords're too heavy but these ain't light enough. Not for me. Richard's Grave taught me fightin' fast was fightin' fierce before Lady Amazonia snapped me outta there. A lesson all us wee urchins had ta learn if we was gonna kill and we had ta kill ta live there".

Jeremiah had never been to Richard's Grave himself, but the lowest tier of Pendragon was notorious for being polluted by thieves, beggars, prostitutes, orphans and murderers. In many a case its residents were more than one of these things. Each tier layered atop the other that comprised the capital was like a city in and of itself, Lilicia had taught him, and while none matched the splendour of the highest tier (St. Darwin Street) Nonette Enneagram's birthplace was the exact opposite.

As the son of two Knights of Round, ward of House Troy and a knight of the Empress' Royal Guard in turn, Jeremiah had spent all of his twenty years in the Street. He bore no ill will toward Lady Nonette for being common born (a Knight of Honour was a knight regardless, were they not?) he could not help but wonder why Lady Amazonia li Brittania, a consort to the Emperor who had just recently been on the verge of being taken to wife and becoming the Empress, would descend to Richard's Grave in the first place. Yet alone take a teenaged girl from "a bloodied gutter", as Enneagram had told him, and raise her with her younger two daughters in a palace on the Street. _And now she may well be a Round._

He could not imagine Princess Guinevere abiding a peasant from a city half buried in the earth (hence 'Grave', though even Lilicia could not explain why it was 'Richard's' much to her chagrin) rising so high. She had even become a sister/friend/mentor to Guinevere's sister, Cornelia.

"Y'know, I still got the Grave in me Bismarck. I've fought 'cha now; you might be the Strongest Knight, fair enough. But could be me that's the Fastest, eh? Ya don't mind if I bare it all do ya, **sir**?". The lady knight's taunting had shook him from the meanderings that he had gotten lost in to try and mask his fear of being outclassed in the duel ahead.

But if they had been meant to show fear in their opponent as well then Sir Gottwald could see no sign that they'd succeeded, "By all means, hold naught back**my lady**. You cannot afford to against me, after all", he noticed some liveliness he could not place in Enneagram's eyes and the one of Sir Waldstein's not sewn shut (from the wound that had made him Charles' Knight of One, Lilicia informed him in their childhood, in defence of the Emperor's life during the infamous Emblem of Blood).

Then Sir Weinberg shouted and the duel was on. Nonette lunged forward and at any one time one of her arms would fly almost too fast for his eyes to grasp as it tried to catch Waldstein with the sabre. The flurry was unrelenting; at utterly random intervals the guarded hilt of the sabre would change hands and sail on a new angle headlong at its target.

_But never daring to so much as brush that greatsword, perhaps that's for the best but how long can she keep that up? She'll tire. And it's huge! _

The flurry broke off as Sir Waldstein pushed forward in great strides, bringing his blade with him. Lady Nonette danced back, the steps of her Iron Dance as spry as ever, but it was all she could do with the sabre to try and prick at the charging giant with its tip as greatsword roared forth.

With one of these strides Bismarck loosed a thick, beefy elbow after his sword that caught Nonette in the midsection and sent her stumbling back, it took the shock of this to rouse Jeremiah into remembering that he was also a duellist in this bout and to stir him on toward the other two.

But even as Sir Gottwald drew in on them he saw the Knight of One's blade close in on his lady ally and he found himself convinced there was no alternative. Jeremiah swept out his sabre and caught the side of the black steel, he managed to ward off the strike at Nonette but his wrist was snapped away by stern recoil and left him stumbling back unsteady.

Before he could regain his balance and ready his sword before him he felt the butt of Waldstein's hilt catch him on his upper-right pectoral, sprawling him down on his back where he gazed up at Lady Enneagram stepping back in to swing at Waldstein before he jerked into a backstep.

Lady Nonette gave her sabre a sour look before looking over to Sir Waldstein and winking at him. She wiggled the sword hilt in her hand before turning to look at Jeremiah, "I'm done playin' 'round. Hey Sir Sabre, catch!", she tossed the blade to him and he narrowly managed to pluck the hilt out of the air through his newly stirred confusion.

Not a second later he saw of flash of movement blazing before him; Nonette had fished a long, curved dagger from…somewhere and darted headlong at Bismarck. His coal black blade swung out to intercept her, moving faster than he thought it could at its weight, but still missed by a wide margin. She had left her feet a few steps out from him and her dagger sailed out like lightning, scraping gratingly along his gauntlet.

But even as Enneagram began to descend she was spinning in mid-air, lashing out with a kick (or two? It was too quick to make out), landing on one open hand, bringing the other around in a backfist clenched around the dagger as Bismarck blocked it with the sword's broadside grimacing.

Jeremiah pulled himself to his feet and moved back into the fray. The blistering blows upside his ribs, arms and head had driven the bigger knight to one side and he brought his greatsword into an overhand diagonal cut to catch his foe but Jeremiah could already tell it wouldn't find its mark. It crashed down on the stone where Nonette had been a moment before sliding in and up with a hard kick to the gut.

Jeremiah waited a heartbeat after drawing near the two for Sir Waldstein to pry his swordtip from the floor. Upon deeming that the Knight of One could defend himself (as any honourable duellist should) he led with a swing of the newly gained sword in his left hand. But the Strongest Knight caught him approaching and simply ducked his head underneath it before hooking Jeremiah's left arm with his right.

After wrenching at the hold failed to free himself, Jeremiah saw Bismarck's greatsword embedded in the ground and attempted to force his release by bringing the right-hand sabre up but the huge knight rolled his neck almost lazily before seizing the offending wrist with his left, gauntleted hand and twisting it up behind Jeremiah's head.

Through the wincing pain of the hold he faced Nonette's side as she stepped in for another stab but the lady knight had to abruptly check her strike as Bismarck shoved Jeremiah roughly into her. Their collision hit Enneagram off-guard and sent her tumbling down to a hard impact against the marble underfoot. Gottwald's head rang from being dashed against her but he kept his feet only due to Waldstein's iron grip on him.

The young knight shook his head in an almost violent jerk to shake off the daze after his elder foe released his grip with an inexplicable grin. "I need not be toyed with, sir!", he managed as his head swam, "I can still fight!", he lurched in with a left, a right, a…and Nonette's sabre flew from his left hand as it met an unstoppable parry from Sir Waldstein.

"Twice the swords do not make you twice the swordsman, boy", the hulking man intoned as Jeremiah rocked back a couple feet, both hands now sweating around the remaining sabre's hilt, skull pounding and teeth gritted in despair, "Know what you see and do what you know; that is code by which I live. You and the lady should learn not to make use of means which you do not properly-", Jeremiah never saw her move.

His spine keeled forward into a deep hunch. He felt two thin, rough hands dig into his back and push off of it. He heard the outstretched legs swoop overhead as their meaty things sailed just above his ears. He crooked his neck up just in time to catch sight of a leapfrogging Nonette slashing out with her dagger an instant out from the Knight of One's startled face.

What happened next couldn't be humanly possible, surely. Bismarck's arm rose up at the last possible moment; gauntlet intercepting the razor sharp point with a metal scream, hand clenching the offending wrist to drive it up under the chin of its airborne owner and fingers snaring the scruff of the neck they found there all before the arm flew back past his head and shoulders in a circular arc to slam his attacker back-first into the unforgiving rock with Herculean strength. Nonette stopped moving.

This Cyclops of a man drew up from his feat of strength and brought his eye to Jeremiah; whose own eyes were wide in shock "Never fear, I only kill my enemies. Lady Enneagram will live to serve her Emperor yet".

"But…how did you? …You didn't even see her coming from behind me…that's superhuman-", he flinched back a foot or two and the ebony juggernaut gave a deep chuckle, "I assure you, I am a human being. And as a human being I posses two eyes, just as you do Sir Jeremiah. However, one of mine happens to be possessed of greater sight than the other. If not for that I fear Lady Enneagram's impressive ploy may have struck me ".

His blind, stitched eye quivered and he wiped at it idly with one massive hand while the other narrowed on the Marquis, "Yet this duel is not over. I confess; I have been seized by a certain desire ever since I came to know of Sir Jeremiah Gottwald; to test the disciple of the only sword ever able to match mine. Show me what The Flash has taught you now boy. Do not balk now. I will suffer no quarter, only your best will suffice".

Sir Gottwald could not refuse a demand from the Knight of One. He took a brief moment; knowing Lady Nonette was safe he was able to regain his knightly composure by allowing all Lady Marianne had taught him (day in and day out for more than a year now) to fill him up. His nagging fears and doubts flowed out to be replaced by wholesome discipline and confidence. He felt as though Marianne was not high above but right by his side and her sweet, motherly counsel told him what he must now do…

He sheathed his sabre.

"You yield?", a disappointed Sir Waldstein intoned his disapproval. "Never, sir", he fit both hand to its hilt, "In the name of Her Majesty, the 98th Empress, Marianne vi Britannia", the technique of his draw was precisely as instructed and his flourish of perfect form, "I triumph!".

The strike was like lightning, exactly as it had been when Lady Marianne first showed it to him that afternoon at the Villa. His heart leapt in pride!...Only to fall dumbfounded a moment later. The blade of the sabre was dwarfed by the iron-clad hands that it was now wedged between. His last resort had been crushed between their cement grip.

"Impressive, boy", the admiration in the Strongest Knight's voice channelled through his one-eyed stare, "Yet I've crossed swords with Marianne countless times; I know even her coup-de-grace like my own name. I don't even need my lesser eye to see it. You wield it well, a worthy disciple. But you are no Flash just yet", Bismarck's lifted Jeremiah's sword (arms still held to it in futility) up, his huge biceps bulging, and snapped his head forth sharply; plunging the young knight down like dead weight into deep, dark sleep.

His consciousness was possessed of some company when it returned an hour or two later; a dull pain rolled around his skull as he lightly shook it side to side as if to coax thought back into his head.

He began to raise himself up from where he lay on the softly cushioned yet uncomfortably solid stone lounge raised from the floor, wiping his blurry eyes with one over-light and clumsy hand as he woke.

A petit yet insistent silken gloved hand stopped his chest as it rose and guided him back down to lie flat (a movement he could not resist with his body still so light and weak for the moment) and he knew without sight or any other indication that it was Lady Marianne watching over him.

"Easy now Jeremiah, give it just a few moments longer now I expect", he would never defy his Lady but he felt a need to get up and about though he did not remember why he could not, "But My Lady, how long has it been?", he mumbled out tiredly as he woke from what felt a great sleep, "And what of Lady Nonette? The third trial…is she a Round?", more fates than Nonette's own hung around that particular question.

"Bismarck gave you quite the butt to the head but not so much time has passed while you slept it off, my loyal captain. The Trial of Wisdom is taking place as we speak; it is dusk now and it will be hours still before that inquisition of a trial is done and we know young Nonette's fate".

His vision had cleared enough to make out her sweet face as she stroked one soft hand along the tail his hair was drawn into, "I know that face Jeremiah Gottwad; you are worrying again", she gave a disapproving _tsk _of the tongue, "You fought valiantly for Nonette and myself. I was unsurprised by your skill but that is because I know precisely what you are capable of, my student", she prodded his forehead inquisitively.

"Bismarck approved of you, you know; he told me he could feel your, 'fierce loyalty' I believe he called it, when you crossed swords. He is a man, but a monster of a man; devoting his entire life single-handedly to being the most loyal, able servant to Charles possible. It takes a monster to best a monster, me specifically, and yet he knows my monstrousness almost as well as I do…almost. There is no shame in defeat by him".

Jeremiah humbly accepted Her Majesty's reassurance as he blinked his sight back to full capacity. At His Lady's words he could not help but realize a distinct connection between himself and Sir Bismarck; both strove to excel in loyalty and ability, one to his Empress and one to his Emperor. Though hearing the Empress refer to them as "monstrous" did not sit right by him. He knew firsthand that their swordsmanship was as remarkable as it comes but that did not make them monsters, surely.

When he looked up with eyes revitalized he noticed they were not alone in this lounge whose architecture meant it must still be within the coliseum. Far from alone, in fact. Gabriella la Brittania sat just to the left of where Marianne was sitting facing him. Cornelia and her mother, Amazonia, leant against the wall on the Empress' right; past where his head lay. And the door on the left wall opposite them was flanked by a Ser Weinberg and a young, pre-teen boy Jeremiah did not recognize.

His upper body flew straight upright unthinking out of well-practiced procedure when among such luminaries and he was surprised to fight that his arms no longer floundered like a jelly as he snapped a salute and his head did not pound from the sudden movement or thump of the gesture.

Amazonia threw her head back in a hearty but coarse laugh (that made him think of her ward Nonette, though the consorts was more manly in comparison to her boyish one), "Well, I guess you were right about this one Mari! He took a hell of a licking but he fixes up quick smart when duty calls!", the lady consort made for them in heavy strides.

She cocked her head over her shoulder, "Cornelia, I'm heading back to the palace now that Mari's boy's back from the dead. I'd go to meet Nonette myself but you know how Euphemia gets lonely when none of us are there with her", the muscle-bound mother bent by him to give him a quick rap across the brow with her beefy knuckles, "Well, well, maybe you can take a hit. But you'll still need more muscle to be a Flash, kid".

Princess Cornelia stirred off the wall, "Mother, why didn't you just bring Euphy to the coliseum? You knew I had duty at Aries Villa tonight and now neither of us can be at Lady Nonette's side after the third trial".

Amazonia pursed her lips, "I understand Cornelia but Euphy isn't ready to see the violence of these trials yet. Marianne's Lelouch has always been a boy ahead of his age and so long her brother is with her Nunnally seems just as bold. You know how Euphy would react to see Nonette go through what she did today, don't you girl?", the Second Princess could not seem to argue that point, "Yes mother, forgive me", she conceded. "You're a fine sister to her, give it time and she'll be brave for you too. Besides, I sent Gilbert to see to Nonette in our stead. Though I dare say he would've refused to leave your side if you hadn't assented", Cornelia seemed placated, "Ella, weren't you headed for the royal palace too?", Gabriella had been staring at him intently with a look of concern and was practically shocked out of it by the brusque query from her good friend.

"Oh dear, yes, I am! Charles called my darling Clovis to the palace all of a sudden before the trials this morning and I must see to collecting my dearest. Oh, it's such a shame little Karine and beautiful Guinevere stayed at Warrick and missed the spectacle! I told them but Guin insisted and Karine must do whatever her big sister does so that was the end of it! You ladies know I've never been able to refuse my darlings anything!", the other consort gushed as she always did on the topic of her children.

"I've told you Ella don't let Guin…", Milady Amazonia caught bit her disgruntled, "Forget it. Just remember what I've told you about keeping her hooks of out the noblemen. Woman grown or not, no daughter of mine or yours will be a conniving hussy".

Gabriella cupped her hand to her mouth and gave an embarrassed nod and Cornelia looked plain uncomfortable, "She…she's just misunderstoo – oh dear, I will be the most caring mother I can Amy, oh, just as I've always promised!", the flustered consort rose and paid a curtsey to Marianne and the all the other occupants before placing a hand on either side of Jeremiah's head and giving him a quick peck of the lips, "I'm ever so glad you've healed so well Sir Gottwald; it's truly a miracle!".

Jeremiah thanked her for the exaggeration and she and 'Amy' were leaving the lounge when the girlish consort whirled around in her elegant, flowing dress in a start, "Oh! Dear silly, silly me! How could I nearly forget! Mari! Mari! I have a great favour to ask of you!", she whisked her way over to the Empress and explained that Charles had forbid her from brining her Society girls into the royal palace but that they had so wanted to attend the trials that she could not bring herself to leave them behind.

After Marianne agreed to host them at the Villa for the night the two consorts left (after Gabriella rained down a flurry of kisses on her old friends cheeks) only for Sir Weinberg to finally break his rigid, statue-like silence and step into their presence proper.

"Well then Your Majesty, may I presume to escort you to Aries Villa until such time as Lady Enneagram's Trials are complete and I can deliver you His Majesty's verdict?", the Knight of Three sounded less high of voice and preachy in person, rather, his was a droll drone that made him sound an emotionally taxed, world-weary old man.

Jeremiah bore an inherent reverence to anyone named a Round but he could scarce bring himself to abide that one who carried himself like the husk of a better man (and he knew the sullen Jesuit had never been a distinguished knight) held the same sword as Hector and Paris fo Troy, Lady Marianne, Bismarck Waldstein, Dorothea Ernst and his own parents.

"Thankyou sir, but there will be no need for that; Cornelia and my own Captain will suffice just fine. Please go ahead to the Third Trial; the sooner all the Rounds are gathered the sooner it can conclude".

He could not conceive of how difficult this was for his Lady. Having taking advantage of the old custom of a royal acting as sponsor for a prospective Round she herself (despite being Knight of Six) was forbidden by the Emperor to take part in the Trial of Wisdom; wherein all currently seated Rounds and the Emperor himself would interrogate the fledgling to determine their conviction, wisdom and loyalty.

"As Her Majesty commands. The Emperor's shall pass his judgement following the third trial. His Majesty has appointed me to serve as envoy, therefore I shall call at Aries as soon as-", Marianne waved a hand casually, "I already know what His judgment will be sir, but thankyou. Now my children need their rest and I have Gabriella's girls to have seen to as well. Go, your son seems anxious for the experience".

And that he did. The boy (whose couldn't have differed much in age from Prince Lelouch) bounded over to his fathers side to tug at his flowing white cloak in hearing himself being referred to, "Come on Papa, there's lots of pretty girls in the palace, right!".

His father gave a slight twinge of the brow but otherwise remained as nearly emotionless as always, "Mind yourself Gino; you come before Her Majesty, the Empress. And I will not abide such frivolous talk, you know our ways", however the morose drone did little to dispel the boys indomitable spirits as he flashed a wide, upbeat grin, "Yes, Papa", came a reply that sounded as if it had seem much cheeky use.

Lady Marianne stood up and lent forward to place a hand on young Gino's head, "Why, there certainly are Gino. Take your father along now and best of luck, you little heartbreaker you", Gino proceeded to pull his father from the room by his sleeves as he made to bow to the Empress.

The veritable convoy of carriages that brought them back to Aries Villa boasted much more than himself, Lady Marianne, Prince Lelouch, Princess Nunnally and Princess Cornelia in the lead car. Behind them trailed a half a dozen cars brimming with noble young ladies of the Society bound for a night of luxury at the finest resort in Britannia.

Sir Gottwald's first duty upon disembarking from the carriage was not to escort his Lady or her children but, rather, to ensure that rooms were found for all the Society girls (not a difficult task considering its sheer size). It came from his Lady, however, and as such he took it in its stride.

It took an almost embarrassingly long time to see to the task, due mainly to one confectionary pink-haired tiny girl who ran him ragged across half the estate; ducking between his legs and squeezing through tight gaps whenever he grew near. He finally ran across an elder, teenaged girl who promised to see the girl to a room in his stead, much to his thanks.

He then moved to find his guards on their patrol and assign them positions outside all the girls doors but saw neither hide nor hair of a single one (just as they had been absent in his recent chase) by the time he came to the main foyer and saw the Empress finish speaking with a rather perplexed Cornelia before her two children made their entrance.

Lady Marianne drew an excited Princess Nunnally up where she proceeded to paw at her mothers luscious black hair, beautiful blue eyes beaming all the while, as Prince Lelouch battled to catch his breath from yet another chase amidst panting attempts to advise his mother on cautioning Nunnally against her frequent scampering across Aries.

As his Lady vanished up the stairs to see them abed he was swept out of the peaceful bliss of watching this perfect family when Cornelia drew up beside him on her way out the entrance doors, "You have only the external sentries on guard tonight sir, Lady Marianne sent the rest home herself so they might be with their families."

He was unsure how to feel about this until the Princesss explained further, "In celebration of Lady Nonette's impending Roundship she says. We know all about her bravery though. You alone have the guard inside the Villa tonight; were our soon-to-be Lady of the Rounds here she would no doubt jape that you should remain as chaste as Prince Lelouch with so many young women under your care but I will control myself", she flattered him one of those rare smiles he usually observed only when she was at play with Princess Euphemia in the Aries grounds then.

"I leave our Empress in your hands. I will meet with you all again tomorrow morning. Hopefully we are all celebrating as Her Majesty believes. Goodbye, Sir Jeremiah", after the Second Princess left he took diligently to his new duties: making a round of the Villa before returning to the foyer where he began. When he did Marianne was awaiting him.

She descended the stairs slowly, one at a graceful time, with her gaze fixed on him, "I hope you don't mind that I didn't extend this leave to you as well Jeremiah; any decent Empress should keep her finest blade by her side always. Even when there is nothing which needs be cut down".

"You honour me again, my Lady", he voiced the first half of his reply. _I would forever be honoured just to remain by your side, and I shall cut down whatever you require; even if it means being cut down myself. _

Marianne was standing right before him then and she turned him a hot pink with a peck on the cheek, "How very chivalrous of you, my knight. I promise you shall never go unrewarded", he could not voice even half a reply to that (nor think it, for that matter) but Lady Marianne thankfully put him out of his misery with a laugh and a pat on the chest.

"I will never tire of you Jeremiah, my knight, you are always such a treat for an old lady like me!", her genuine laughter subsided and she set her captivating eyes on his once more, "Now go and do your duty, sweet knight of mine. For the love you bare me and my children".

As he stood guard at the rear of the estate's interior (least guarded by the sentries) he kept the stern, disciplined expression as he always did on duty but it was much more difficult to maintain today than it ever had. After all, his life was practically perfect; he was a prestigious lord, a decorated knight, sworn sword of an ideal Empress, shield to her royal children and friend to many an outstanding Britannian.

And above all: Jeremiah Gottwald had never, ever failed.

…...

'**TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT' **

...

Silence, cacophony, then silence again. Deadly silence.


End file.
